


The Magic Bean

by cassie_black



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Community: paperlegends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_black/pseuds/cassie_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana had a habit of getting Merlin into scrapes of one sort or another. But introducing him to her brother, Arthur, may have just set in motion the most eventful one yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magic Bean

"You've got a visitor."

"Huh?" Merlin looked up from the gurgling coffee machine, his face a tiny frown of concentration.

Gwen merely nodded in the direction of the counter.

Merlin snapped a plastic lid on the vanilla latte and turned around. He spotted Morgana instantly – it was hard not to. Her designer clothes, perfect hair, and carefully made up face were a beacon of style in amongst the skiving teenagers, harried shoppers, and workmen from the nearby building site.

As usual her appearance garnered a fair amount of attention. Morgana maintained an air of casual indifference to it, but Merlin knew her well enough by now to see this for the sham that it really was.

He smiled briefly in acknowledgement, before turning his attention back to the job at hand. Merlin's customer was waiting impatiently, simultaneously bellowing into his Blackberry and glaring at Merlin with an air of condescension he was all too familiar with.

Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes or poke out his tongue. What was it about grown men in suits that had them believe they were vastly superior to everyone? Still, he handed over the drink with a smile, honed through years of experience of dealing with dicks like the one currently dumping a handful of money, not into Merlin's outstretched hand, but down onto the counter beneath.

"Tosser."

Merlin looked up from the till in surprise and was relieved to find Morgana there, all bright-red lipstick and careful waves, her eyes fixed beadily on the retreating back of his last customer.

"I don't know how you stand it in here some days," she continued.

Merlin's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Some of our customers more than make up for the others." He added a wink for good measure.

"Flatterer."

"I aim to please," Merlin said, slamming the till shut. "Now, what can I get for you, Madam?"

Morgana's attention turned to the board behind his head, and this time Merlin didn't even attempt to curb the eye-roll; he knew exactly what she would order before the words even left her mouth. Not because he was particularly psychic, but because it was the exact same order she had been placing since she first stepped foot through the cafe doors around six months ago.

"Caramel Macchiato and a blueberry muffin, please."

Merlin mouthed the words along with her and found himself on the receiving end of a fierce glare.

"Nobody likes a smart arse," Morgana said, and casually flipped her hair behind one shoulder.

Merlin grinned. "Ah, that explains the recent dry spell then." He reached to the side for a clean mug.

Morgana gave a quick shake of her head. "Make it a venti," she said quickly.

Merlin raised an eyebrow in surprise – that was new. "Bad day?"

"Something like that," she replied, but elaborated no further on the subject. "Now, about that dry spell of yours, if you would just let me fix you up – I know some really nice men."

"Thanks." Merlin picked up one of the larger cups and avoided eye contact. "But I'm not really in the market for a boyfriend at the moment."

"Pfft." Morgana gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Who said anything about boyfriends? You just need to get laid." Morgana paused for a moment and glanced sideways down the counter. "Gwen thinks you're afraid of getting hurt, because of Gwaine."

Merlin ignored the brief tightness in his chest. "Gwen also thinks that _you_ have a crush on _me_ , so I wouldn't pay too much attention to her opinions if I were you."

Morgana gazed in Gwen's direction for a moment longer, before turning back to face Merlin. "Not all men are like Gwaine, you know."

Merlin gave a slight shake of his head. "And not all gay men are into casual sex. Now if we're quite done discussing my sex life at work, I'll just get on with making your order."

"Fine." Morgana gave a slight shrug and turned her attention towards her highly-polished nails. "Are you due a break soon?" she asked, tracing the tip of her thumb over one shiny surface. "I want to talk to you about something."

Merlin glanced at the clock behind him. "Five minutes," he answered shortly. "I'll come and join you."

*

Morgana had barely made a dent in her large vat of coffee by the time Merlin arrived. He dumped his own caffè mocha onto the table, his eyes daring Morgana to comment as she took in the mound of whipped cream atop his drink.

"Come on, then," he said. "Out with it."

Morgana popped a morsel of blueberry muffin between her lips and chewed slowly.

How she managed to smirk at the same time as eat, Merlin wasn't sure, but manage it she did. She clearly had no intention of explaining any time soon, so he picked up a spoon and began attacking his own drink.

He always ate the cream first, and had been known to return for seconds of it before even contemplating the drink beneath. Gwen would only shake her head in amusement, but given that her drink of choice was PG-Tips, Merlin reckoned she had no right to judge.

"There's a protest tomorrow," Morgana said finally, slowly moving the stirrer around her cup.

Merlin's spoon clinked against the china. "Oh no," he said firmly. "Not again."

Morgana smiled sweetly and Merlin's heart sank – he'd never once managed to say no to her. Not that he usually had a problem asserting himself – just ask his mum, or Will, or any of his ex-boyfriends (Gwaine excepting) – but somehow Morgana had found a chink in his armour, and she exploited it cheerfully with alarming regularity.

"There's a woman due to be deported," Morgana continued, as if Merlin hadn't spoken. "She's being sent back to Uganda next week."

Merlin raised his brows slightly at this. "I didn't think immigration was your thing," he said.

"No, not usually. But this woman's a lesbian."

Merlin smiled slightly. "Cute, is she?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Morgana's tone was just a little sharper now. "You're supposed to be the intelligent one here – don't you read the news?"

Actually, between his PhD and working full time, Merlin rarely did. He took another spoonful of cream and gave a small shrug. "I only buy magazines to look at the pictures," he said, and then blushed slightly at the memory of Will catching him looking at said pictures.

Morgana's expression lightened and she shook her head. "You're a sad little man, Emrys. I stand by what I said – you really do need to get laid."

"Not so loud," Merlin muttered, his eyes flickering warily towards the small crowd of teenage girls at the next table along. One of whom seemed far more interested in the conversation at their table than the one at her own.

"Don't be such a prude; it's perfectly natural."

"So's nudity," Merlin retorted. "But I have no desire to share it with the other customers. So how about you finish telling me about this woman?"

Morgana laughed. "Fair enough," she said, and then her expression changed. She leant forward in her seat, closing the distance between them, and Merlin recognised the familiar glint of determination in her eyes. "Did you know it's illegal to be gay in Uganda?" she asked.

Merlin's hand stilled partway between his cup and mouth. "Seriously?"

He felt surprised and ashamed by his own ignorance in turn. Logically he knew there were parts of the world much less tolerant than Britain. Hell, he'd run into his own fair share of bigotry growing up. But _illegal_? That was something else altogether.

"Seriously," Morgana repeated. "If they send her back she'll face up to fourteen years in jail. And that's the best case scenario."

Merlin frowned; it didn't sound like it to him. "How d'you mean?"

Morgana gazed out of the window for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts, and when she turned back her expression was one of almost despair. "One of their politicians is trying to pass a law making it a capital offence."

Merlin gaped. There was no other word for it. "They want to kill people for being gay? Legally?" He slumped back in his chair feeling almost dazed. "That's fucked up."

"That's one way of putting it," Morgana said. And Merlin could well imagine some of the colourful language that _she'd_ used. "So you'll come?"

There had never really been any question of Merlin refusing, not when it was Morgana doing the asking. But now, after hearing that, nothing would have kept him away. He'd never been particularly active in the Gay Rights movement. Sure he'd attended a few Pride events, worn the t-shirt, blown the whistle, but other than that Merlin had been content to let others take up the struggle. Maybe, he thought, it was time to stand up and be counted.

"I'll come," he said firmly.

Morgana beamed at him. "I knew I could rely on you," she said happily.

"Yeah, yeah," Merlin replied, then fixed her with a _look_. "But if you get me arrested again, this is the last blueberry muffin you'll get out of me." And to back up his point, Merlin made a long arm across the table and snagged a chunk of cake off her plate.

Morgana rapped him sharply over his knuckles with her spoon. "It wasn't _my_ fault you got arrested last time."

"You handcuffed me to a policeman!"

Morgana had the good grace to look a little sheepish. "At least he was a _cute_ policeman."

"He was also incredibly pissed off," Merlin said, quite unable to keep the smile from his face. "Just promise me no handcuffs this time."

Morgana pouted slightly. "Fine," she said, and then her expression brightened. "Oh, I forgot to mention, there's a party afterwards. You should come."

"That's a strange way to round of a protest march, isn't it?" Merlin's brow creased slightly. "Or is it something new Amnesty is trying?"

"It's nothing to do with the march," Morgana replied, and smiled in a way that made Merlin feel just the tiniest bit stupid for even asking. "It's for Arthur's birthday."

"Won't that be slightly weird?" Merlin asked. "I mean, I've never even met the bloke; won't he find it a bit strange if I just turn up at his birthday party?"

"Not in the slightest. He'll barely know half the people there. Knowing my brother, it'll be full of business types and lots of schmoozing."

"Sounds like fun," Merlin said, his tone clearly indicating that _it did not_.

"Oh, don't let that put you off," Morgana said hurriedly. "He's hired out a club in Soho that's meant to be amazing." She paused and gazed over to the counter for a moment. "You could bring Gwen," she finished hopefully.

Morgana had never actually told Merlin that she was bisexual. But given the numerous ex-boyfriends, and the size of her rather obvious crush on Gwen, he had just assumed. "I'll ask her," he said, and crossed his fingers that a night of watching Gwen flirt mercilessly with other men (as she was wont to do) would be enough to make Morgana realise the futility of her little obsession.

**********

Arthur was lounging on the sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table and remote firmly in hand. It was his first Saturday off work in what seemed like forever, and he was determined to enjoy it. Now, if only Morgana would hurry up and bugger off, he could try out a few of those _extra_ channels that he'd subscribed to without her knowledge.

"You're sure you won't change your mind?"

Arthur turned to look at his sister and couldn't help but smile. Only Morgana could turn a human rights march into an excuse for high fashion. "Vivienne Westwood? Really?"

Morgana scowled. "It's only a blazer; it's chilly out there. And don't dodge the question."

"Oh, I'm not dodging it," Arthur said, absently scratching his belly. "And I have no intention of joining you either. The last thing I want is to spend the day with a bunch of unwashed, bleeding-heart liberals."

"Don't be such a snob," Morgana snapped. "It'd do you good to visit the real world once in a while."

"Don't start with your socialist bollocks, Morgana." Arthur aimed the remote at the TV and began hopping through the numerous channels.

"As opposed to your capitalist crap," she said, pointedly standing in front of the large screen.

Arthur laughed. "You live in a penthouse flat, wear designer clothes, and drive a sports car. All of which is paid for by your trust fund. Don't even try lecturing me." Morgana paused for a moment, clearly stumped by the validity of his point, and Arthur grinned smugly. "Now if you don't mind..."

"At least I have a life," Morgana said petulantly.

"Morgana, we share the same flat, the same friends, and work practically the same hours. The only difference between us is that I have football and you have these little social crusades every now and again. If I have no life, then neither do you."

"You can be such an arse sometimes." Morgana kicked Arthur's feet so that they slid off the table, and then moved swiftly before he could retaliate.

Arthur, however, was feeling far too relaxed at the prospect of a day off to get worked up. "I know," he said smugly.

Morgana's reply was a noise of pure frustration. "And anyway," she said suddenly, "we don't share _all_ the same friends. I have Merlin and Gwen."

"Merlin?" Arthur repeated incredulously. "Now I know you're just making it up."

"It's a name."

"Yes, of a mythical character, _not_ a real person."

"That's a bit rich coming from someone named Arthur."

Arthur glared in return. "It's a family name," he said sharply. "Unlike this Merlin person, who no doubt has the drugs his parents smoked in the sixties to thank for his particular name."

"God, you're impossible sometimes." Morgana shook her head. "Don't you dare say things like that to him tonight."

That stopped Arthur in his tracks. "Tonight?" he queried. "Why would your bizarrely-named friend, whom I've never met, be at my birthday party?"

Morgana's chin jutted defiantly. "Because I invited him. And Gwen, too." Arthur opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it. "Don't start with me, Arthur. I practically organised the damn thing by myself, so if I want to have a couple of friends there, then I bloody well will."

"But you'll have friends there." Arthur frowned slightly. "Leon'll be there, and Lance, and Percy. They're all friends of yours."

"But they're all _blokes_."

Arthur raised one brow. "And this _Merlin_ isn't?"

"He's gay; it's different. And he won't want to talk about football all night."

"Stereotyping much?" Arthur asked, just a little pointedly. "And if it's female company you're after, Elena will be there."

"Who's more of a bloke than the rest of you put together. She's the only girl I know who actually understands the Offside Rule."

"Okay, you might have a point there," Arthur admitted. "I promise I'll be on my best behaviour."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Arthur grinned. "So what's he like, this Merlin? Fit, is he?"

If looks could have killed, Arthur reckoned he'd have been six feet under from the glare Morgana was currently shooting in his direction. "Don't even think about it," she said.

"What?" Arthur protested. "I was only—"

"I don't care," Morgana interrupted. "You are _not_ shagging Merlin. I'd like to actually keep him as a friend."

"Calm down, it was just an innocent question."

"I mean it, Arthur. Don't screw this up for me. With Merlin or Gwen for that matter."

Arthur opened his mouth to continue, but relented when he saw the genuine concern on her face. "Fine," he said shortly. "I'll be pleasant and charming, but strictly no shagging."

The corners of Morgana's mouth quirked slightly. "Are you sure you can manage that?"

"I don't know where you've got this idea from that I'm some sort of man-whore."

Morgana just _looked_ , until eventually a slight flush coloured Arthur's cheekbones. "Fine," he huffed. "But I'm not completely without self-control."

Morgana grabbed her handbag off the table and smiled fully now. "That's good to know," she said. "Because I was beginning to have my doubts."

She was halfway to the door before Arthur's cushion clipped the back of her head. "Don't be late," he said. "And _don't_ get arrested. I'm not bailing you out again."

**********

"I told you this was a bad idea," Gwen muttered as they made their way through a busy Saturday night in Soho. "Look at this place. And the size of the queue."

Merlin glanced in the direction of Gwen's nod and had to admit she had a point. He was no stranger to the area – the pubs on Old Compton Street had been some of his favourite haunts when he'd first come out – but _this_ was definitely not the sort of place he was used to. "We're here now," he replied finally. "Don't start."

"We don't belong here," Gwen said stubbornly. "We'll never make it past the bouncers."

"Morgana said we're on the guest list," Merlin said, reading from the text she'd sent him earlier. But even he didn't feel as certain as he sounded. _Club 84_ looked like the sort of place that usually had minor royalty tripping through its doors, not two baristas from Camden.

Gwen gave him a sceptical look, then squared her shoulders and walked straight past the winding queue. "Come on, then. But if we get thrown out, you're buying me dinner."

*

They made it inside with an ease that even Merlin hadn't anticipated. He'd expected at least to have to show some I.D., but at the merest mention of their names they were ushered inside – to a chorus of disapproving groans from the not-so-patiently waiting queue.

"Fuck! Would you look at this place?"

Merlin already was, and was immediately grateful he'd let Gwen talk him into wearing his _smart_ clothes. Not that his usual ones were particularly scruffy, but even though his _Sunday best_ still fell a little short of the other guests' standards, at least he didn't feel like the poor cousin.

"Ooh, there's Morgana." Gwen seemed to have overcome her awe rather quickly and was currently bouncing on her toes. "Look at that dress she's wearing. It must have cost—Oh my god! Who is that with her?"

Merlin didn't need the sharp nudge to his ribs that followed Gwen's last words. He'd already noticed the man with her and was currently far too busy trying not to drool to give any coherent answer.

"Hands off," Gwen said, giving him a knowing look. "I saw him first."

Merlin just nodded distractedly and tried to school his features into something that resolutely did not look like a gape.

"You made it!" Morgana stepped forward, broad smile on her face. She leant in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Not something she usually did, but Merlin suspected the faint waft of alcohol on her breath, and the fact she was now repeating the action eagerly with Gwen, more than accounted for it.

Merlin grinned in return. "Well, seeing how you didn't manage to get me arrested today, I had nothing better to do."

Morgana's companion snorted at this, loudly enough to make himself heard over the thumping strains of Lady Gaga.

Morgana gave him a glare that Merlin was intimately acquainted with, then she turned back to them with a smile. "This," she said, with a brief nod to her side, "is my brother, Arthur. He thinks he's funny, so please feel free to disillusion him."

Arthur returned his sister's glare with interest, Merlin was amused to note, before he turned a smile that was almost blinding in its brilliance on Merlin and Gwen.

"You must be _Merlin_ ," he said, with just the hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Merlin nodded and took the proffered hand. Suddenly his throat seemed rather dry. "Happy birthday," he managed finally, hoping his voice didn't sound as croaky to other ears as it did his own.

The corners of Arthur's eyes crinkled when he smiled, and Merlin knew he was done for when his mind supplied the word _endearing_ in response to a glimpse of his slightly crooked front teeth.

"Thank you," Arthur replied, giving Merlin a measured look that threatened to make him blush.

Merlin was sure Arthur gave his hand a definite squeeze before finally letting go. "We haven't got you anything," he blurted out suddenly, completely wrong-footed by the whole exchange.

Arthur laughed. Morgana, too. And Gwen gave Merlin a look that quite clearly said _you idiot_.

Merlin couldn't quite decide if he should be offended or not. Whether it was the idea of him actually being able to afford anything Arthur could possibly want that was so amusing. Some of his thoughts clearly showed on his face, because moments later Morgana placed a hand gently on his arm.

"No one expected to you to. You don't even know Arthur."

"And yet, here he is, at _my_ birthday party."

Merlin's sense of unease increased. "Maybe we should go," he said softly.

Gwen looked at him in horror at the barest suggestion – how quickly she changed her tune, Merlin thought to himself. Morgana was busying shooting daggers at her brother, who already appeared just a little bit sheepish.

"Stay," Arthur said finally, his eyes fixed intently on Merlin's face. "I'm just being an arse. Something Morgana will undoubtedly tell you I do quite a lot." He paused for a moment and the tip of his tongue peeked between his lips and licked them quickly. "I want you to stay."

Merlin's head was already too full of the words Arthur and arse in the same context – at the sight of this completely unprovoked lip-licking, he very nearly whimpered. Fortunately, the music still pounded loudly all around them, and Arthur's attention had now moved on.

"You must be the lovely Gwen."

Merlin didn't miss the slightly tic in Morgana's jaw as her brother raised Gwen's hand to his lips.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Arthur continued, and then his lips gave the barest of brushes to Gwen's skin.

Gwen, in turn, flushed, dimpled, and let out a nervous giggle. "Thank you, kind sir," she replied, and something about the teasing note in her voice grated on Merlin's last nerve.

He gave himself a mental shake. He was being utterly ridiculous. Gwen was his best friend, and neither of them knew Arthur from Adam. Gorgeous or not – and he undeniably was – Merlin was not about to fall out with Gwen over a man who was so clearly out of both their leagues.

"I'll get the drinks in, shall I?" Merlin suggested, hopeful that some time out of Arthur's company would return sanity to his brain.

Gwen reluctantly tore her attention away long enough to nod in agreement. "I'll have a vodka and Coke," she said, with such a bright smile on her face that Merlin felt like such a heel for resenting it.

"Morgana?" Merlin turned to his other friend, whose expression wasn't quite as radiant as it had been five minutes ago.

"Sorry?" She turned to face him, a tiny wrinkle of confusion marring her brow.

"Drink?" Merlin repeated, raising his voice to compete with the strains of Madonna now filling the room.

Morgana's eyes flickered briefly to Gwen, who had returned to making eyes at Arthur. "Mojito," she said curtly.

"Ooh." Gwen turned around suddenly. "That sounds like fun. Forget what I said; I'll have one of those two."

Merlin rolled his eyes and smiled. "Two Mojitos coming up," he said. "Arthur?"

Arthur gave a slight shake of his head, causing one or two wayward strands of hair to fall forward over his eyes. "I'm fine. I've still got a drink waiting for me over there." He gave a vague nod in the direction he'd come from.

"Come on." Merlin dug in his pocket for his wallet. "Let me at least buy you a birthday drink."

"I'm fine, honest," Arthur said, and there was that smile again, causing Merlin's belly to twist and squirm in an alarmingly pleasant way.

"Oh for goodness sake, just let the man buy you a drink would you?" Morgana huffed. "Get him a Manhattan, Merlin. It's what he's drinking."

Merlin raised his eyebrows and quirked a small smile in Arthur's direction. "Cocktails?" he asked, amusement clear in his tone.

"You try asking for a pint in here and see how far you get," Arthur retorted good-naturedly.

Merlin needed to move, and soon. Something about Arthur was threatening to turn him into a flustered, bumbling idiot, and he'd done enough of that around Will in the Sixth Form to last the next three lifetimes. Now, if only he could convince his feet to oblige.

The journey to the bar was easier than he first expected – Arthur certainly seemed to be popular. By dint of some well-placed elbows and no small amount of squirming, Merlin soon found himself pressed against the bar's highly-polished surface.

When the time came to place, or rather, shout his order, Merlin decided to take Arthur's words at face value. Rather than ask for his usual pint, and look even more out of place that he already was – a quick glance in the bar's mirrored back wall confirmed this – he ordered another Manhattan for himself. _When in Rome_ , he told himself, and resolutely ignored the echo of Will's voice telling him it was a _bloody poof's drink._

When the smiley blonde barmaid set the drinks down in front of him, all frosted rims and glowing in the ultra-violet light, Merlin fished for his wallet. But as he watched the price rack up on the till's blinking display, he realised that not only would getting pissed _not_ be a problem, it was also no longer a possibility.

 _Thirty-six quid_ , Will's voice yelled in his brain. _For a round of fucking drinks!_

Merlin gave his head a slight shake and liberated a couple of twenties from the now rather meagre contents of his wallet.

"The trouble with Morgana is she forgets not everyone has the luxury of a trust fund paying their bills."

The voice was so close to Merlin's ear that, afterwards, he swore he felt the faintest brush of lips against the lobe. He turned quickly, instinctively, and found himself face to face, quite literally, with Arthur. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Merlin swallowed hard.

"Pardon?"

Arthur smiled then and Merlin knew that the battle was already lost.

"Morgana," Arthur repeated, his lips a hair's breadth from Merlin's. "She has expensive taste." Then he turned away to flash a brilliant smile at the barmaid. "I'll get these."

It took Merlin several moments to realise Arthur had his wallet out, and a little longer after that to regain the power of coherent speech. ""I'm not poor, you know." It came out a little louder than intended, and during a most inconvenient lull in the music.

Arthur turned slowly, one eyebrow raised, and just gazed at Merlin. The corners of his mouth twitched in what threatened to become a smile. "I know," he said finally, but handed money over the bar nonetheless. "Doesn't mean you should have to waste it on us though." He leaned in, lips distractingly close again, and Merlin forgot to be irritated by the presumption. "Besides, this place is a right rip off."

Merlin wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he settled for just staring incredulously.

“Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can get the next round.”

Merlin didn’t get the chance to reply to this, or process the implication that there would _be_ a next round, or even follow the hormonal impulse that was demanding he close the distance between them and see if Arthur’s lips really were as soft, as welcoming, as they seemed.

"Cheers, Merlin." Morgana appeared, with impeccable timing. She squeezed herself somehow into the small space between their bodies and plucked hers and Gwen’s drinks off the bar.

"Actually, Arthur..." Merlin began, but Arthur silenced him with a shake of his head, and Morgana wasn't listening anyway.

"Gwen and I are off to dance. You coming?"

Merlin shook his head. "I'll pass," he said, then took a tentative sip of his drink. It was surprisingly...pleasant.

"Don't be so boring," Morgana pressed, and when Merlin looked closely, he saw that her fingers were wrapped possessively around Gwen's wrist.

"I don't dance," Merlin said firmly. "Tell her, Gwen."

Gwen's only reply was to snigger slightly into her glass, her eyes sparkling wickedly at him over the rim.

Morgana glanced from Gwen back to Merlin, frowning. "You don't mind if we..." she nodded in the direction of the dance floor. "You'll be all right on your own for a bit?"

"He's not on his own, is he?" Arthur clapped one arm around Merlin's shoulders. "Don't worry, Merlin." Arthur turned to face him, another blinding grin on his face. "I'll take care of you."

Gwen snorted. Merlin heard it distinctly. He also noticed that several pounds worth of Mojito came out of her nose.

Morgana and Arthur appeared not to notice, locked, as they were, in some bizarre eyeballing contest. Merlin assumed it was some weird sibling thing and gave it no further thought. He simply settled back to enjoy the comfortable weight of Arthur's arm around him.

It was Morgana who broke away first. She turned to Gwen with a smile that had Merlin wondering how anyone who saw it – Gwen included – couldn't see how absolutely fucking smitten she was.  
Morgana's parting shot, a baleful glare and a stern reminder to "remember what I said," had Arthur grinning in what Merlin assumed was a particularly maddening fashion. As only children, and completely oblivious to the subtle intricacies of siblinghood, Gwen and Merlin simply looked on in amusement, unwitting bystanders to this battle of wills.

A gentle tug on Gwen's wrist and Morgana was pulling her away. Merlin watched as they weaved their way through the pulsing throng of partygoers, Morgana turning back occasionally to glare daggers at her brother. Merlin turned to Arthur, who appeared utterly unfazed by Morgana's behaviour, and simply raised his glass in a silent, mocking toast.

"You enjoy winding her up?" Merlin asked, painfully aware that Arthur's arm was still snug around his shoulders.

"'S'what big brothers are for," Arthur replied. He took a sip of his drink, and Merlin felt a distinct burn somewhere in his abdomen at the sight of Arthur's lips pressed against the glass, and the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

"But isn't she older than you?"

Arthur made a dismissive sort of noise. "Semantics," he said. Then his grip on Merlin's shoulders tightened briefly. "Come on."

Merlin remained stubbornly still. "Where to?"

"You'll see," Arthur replied, with what appeared to be an attempt at mystery. He pushed away from the bar, and, loathe to lose the contact, Merlin followed. He needn't have worried as it turned out, because Arthur apparently had no intention of letting go.

Arthur steered him through the crowds, and Merlin couldn't help but feel a little smug as he noticed the admiring looks coming their way. Not that he was deluded enough to think they were meant for him, but there was a brief pleasurable moment when he allowed himself to bask in Arthur's reflected glow.

Merlin's curiosity about their destination was relieved soon enough. A chill-out room of sorts, just off the main dance floor, littered with squashy leather sofas, dim lighting, and its own small, but functional bar. Early in the night as it was, the crowds were also a lot thinner on the ground, and Merlin no longer felt the need to clutch his drink to his body lest he end up wearing it.

Merlin's hopes of a quiet, cosy chat – just him and Arthur getting to know each other better – were quashed as Arthur's hand slid from his shoulder to the small of his back and guided him through the scattered tables in the direction of one already teaming with bodies.

Whether he tensed or not, Merlin wasn't sure, but somehow Arthur sensed his reluctance.

"They don't bite," he murmured, his lips doing that distracting _nearness_ thing again.

Merlin quashed the very real urge to ask "but do you?" and just nodded. He chatted with complete strangers every day in the coffee shop – he could handle a few of Arthur's friends. Couldn't he?

"Arthur!" A blonde girl at the table spotted their approach. _Pretty_ blonde girl, Merlin amended mentally, and wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. For a brief moment there he had allowed himself to luxuriate in a fantasy of him and Arthur, and sweaty tangled sheets. Not only had he stupidly assumed Arthur was single, but also that he was interested in men, which, given that it was based on nothing more than an arm around his shoulder, was quite a leap to make.

Blonde Girl shifted up on the sofa and patted it invitingly. "I thought you'd abandoned us again," she said, just the hint of a pout.

"As if I could," Arthur said and his hand slid from Merlin's back until his fingers curled loosely around Merlin's arm instead. "Don't worry," he murmured. "I'll protect you from them."

There was a snort from somewhere to Merlin's left, and a tall muscular man, who made even Arthur's broad frame seem fragile, just laughed outright.

"But who's going to protect him from you?"

Arthur cuffed him round the head. "Shut up, Perce."

The laughs from the rest of the group set Merlin's mind at rest, and then he found himself being pulled down onto the sofa, squashing into a relatively small space at Arthur's side. Arthur seemed oblivious to the lack of room, judging from the way he sank down into the seat, legs splayed wide. Not that Merlin minded overly, not when their thighs were pressed together ever so snugly.

Arthur leant forward and placed his drink on the table, and then, as he sat back, stretched his arm out along the top of the sofa. Not actually around Merlin's shoulders, but it was close enough to seem proprietary, and definitely close enough to cause the tips of Merlin's ears to flush.

"Hi, I'm Elena." Pretty Blonde Girl leant forward and smiled at Merlin. "I'll introduce myself, seeing as _someone_ clearly has no manners."

Now fairly convinced she wasn't Arthur's girlfriend, Merlin was feeling disposed to be friendly. "Merlin," he replied, returning the smile with interest.

Her eyes widened slightly, and there was a definite twitch of her lips. "Merlin?" she repeated. "Not really?"

Merlin suppressed a sigh – he didn't want to offend Arthur's friends, but really the jokes about his name had got a little tiring after the first twenty or so years. "My dad's idea, apparently," he said, hoping that would be an end to it.

Vain hope. Elena threw back her head and released a peal of laughter. "Oh, that's just priceless," she said breathlessly.

Arthur smiled tightly. "Ellie. I really don't think—"

"It's fine," Merlin interrupted. He'd only just met these people; the last thing he wanted was to be the cause of any awkwardness.

Elena looked surprised at their reaction. "Don't you get it?"

"All the time," Merlin replied stiffly, before his brain could intervene.

Elena looked from Merlin to Arthur, and then around the remainder of the group. "Merlin and Arthur," she said finally. "Ring any bells?"

Looks of dawning understanding spread around the group, and there was a ripple of amusement.  
"The once and future king and his trusted advisor," Elena observed gleefully. "That explains all the gay subtext."

There was no hiding Merlin's flush this time, but he gamely tried to disguise his discomfort with an uneasy laugh. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with his sexuality – he'd been out and proud for years – but these were strangers and, worse still, Arthur's friends, who clearly suspected him of having designs on their straight friend.

Only Arthur appeared to be taking the joke well, wasn't inching away from Merlin fearful for his manly virtue, and a tiny part of Merlin, the part that could still feel the weight of Arthur's arm around his shoulders, suggested that maybe he wasn't quite so straight after all.

"The first one of you to make jokes about pulling swords is on the sub's bench tomorrow." Arthur fixed his friends with what appeared to be a mock glare.

"Spoilsport. I had a great one all lined up."

"Let's hear it then, Leon. You're on the bench most weeks anyway, so it hardly matters." Percy received another cuff round the head for his troubles, this time from a man with softly curling red hair, and lovely blue eyes – or at least, Merlin thought so anyway.

The conversation caught his attention. "You play football?" Merlin asked, and resolutely tried _not_ to imagine the after-match showers – at least, not until he was home, and very much alone.

Arthur nodded. "Sunday pub league," he said. "We're not bad; you should come and watch us sometime."

"All of you?" Merlin asked, glancing around the group.

"All except me," Elena replied, as the rest of the group simply nodded. "And that's only because _someone_ won't let me."

Arthur sighed, and Merlin got the feeling it wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. "It's nothing to do with me, and you know it. The league rules say—"

"Blah blah blah. Don't start boring me with your rule book, Arthur. We both know the reason you don't want me playing is because I'm better than you."

Merlin couldn't help but grin at the outraged look on Arthur's face. "That is...I can't...Leon, tell her!"

Leon looked sheepish under the force of twin glares and Merlin felt almost sorry for him. "Well, she's not bad," he admitted reluctantly.

"I'm a far better Striker," Arthur insisted. "I can't believe you even—"

"You're a goal-hanger, Arthur," Elena said with a sweet grin. "Seriously though, you should come and watch them, Merlin. Hot, sweaty men running around in little shorts," she paused a moment before adding, "What's not to love about that?"

Despite himself Merlin couldn't help but grin in reply.

"Hey! When you're quite done objectifying us."

Elena nudged Arthur with her shoulder. "Don't even pretend like you don't enjoy it." She leant forward again. "You do realise you've pulled the vainest man inexistence, don't you?"

Merlin wasn't quite sure there was a right way to answer that. Not with Elena winking, the rest of the group chuckling, and Arthur _looking_ at him in a way Merlin couldn't quite figure out. Then it occurred to Merlin, that these people, Arthur's friends, thought that he and Arthur were together, like _that_ , certainly for the night, if not longer, which could only mean that Arthur was nowhere near as straight as Merlin thought.

Unsure of what to do now, how to respond to that, Merlin glanced at Arthur to see how he was handling the implication. Merlin had no idea what he expected to find, but the relaxed, open smile on Arthur's face certainly wasn't it.

As the conversation carried on around them, talk turning easily to other matters, Merlin sat back in his seat, slightly stunned. It was only moments before he felt Arthur's gaze on him. He turned uncertainly, a nervous smile on his face. Arthur leant in and for one heart-stopping moment, Merlin thought he meant to kiss hm.

"She's right, you know," Arthur murmured, a glint of _something_ in his eyes.

 _They were so blue,_ Merlin thought helplessly, and tried to force his brain to work again. "About you being vain?" he croaked finally, in an effort to lighten the definite tension.

The corners of Arthur's eyes crinkled as he laughed, and Merlin thought he could listen to that sound forever.

"That too," Arthur admitted ruefully. "A little." He paused and licked his lips here, and Merlin was surprised to see the tiniest flicker of uncertainty cross his face. "But I actually meant the part about you having pulled."

Arthur flashed him a quick grin before turning to answer one of his friends. It had all happened so quickly that Merlin would have been inclined to think that he imagined it, were it not for the fact that Arthur's fingers were now toying lightly with the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

"So how do you two know each other, anyway?"

Leon was looking at him expectantly, they were all waiting for a reply, but it was all Merlin could do to think straight with Arthur's nails bluntly scraping against his scalp.

"He's a friend of Morgana's," Arthur answered for him.

Merlin sagged slightly with relief, but he wasn't getting off that lightly just yet.

"So you work at Amnesty, too, do you?" Elena's face was open with genuine interest – Merlin didn't have it in him to resent her questions.

He shook his head slightly. "I'm still at university." Then, noting the slight look of alarm on Arthur's face, he added, "I'm doing a PhD."

Arthur's scratching resumed and Merlin now fully understood why cats purred.

"I didn't know that."

Merlin grinned back at Arthur. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he teased.

"He's a bit smart for you, isn't he?" Percy stretched out his leg and gave Arthur's foot a light kick. "You want to watch this one, Merlin. He'll suck the intelligence right out of you."

Merlin couldn't help himself. "I'll look forward to it," he quipped, and gave Arthur a quick wink for good measure.

It wasn't until all his friends were laughing outright that Percy realised the innuendo in his words. Merlin was surprised to see such a _manly_ man blushing like a virgin on her wedding night.

Arthur's fingers dipped beneath the neck of Merlin's shirt and his laugher faded quickly. As they skimmed over the ridge of his collarbone, sending tiny shivers of pleasure coursing through his body, Merlin shifted uneasily in his seat. If Arthur kept this up for much longer, he was going to have a very _prominent_ problem.

Percy got to his feet suddenly. "Back in a minute," he said.

"Ah, come on, Perce, we're only having a laugh." Elena batted her eyelashes winningly at her friend.

"I know." Percy nodded.

"So where are you off to in such a rush?"

"Slash," Percy replied succinctly.

Elena wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Charming."

The rest of the boys sniggered, while Percy shrugged. "You asked."

Elena shook her head at Percy's departing back. "Run, while you still can, Merlin. They're a bunch of Neanderthals."

"Hey," Leon protested. "What did I do?"

Arthur's fingers were now teasing the sensitive skin just beneath Merlin's ears, and he was so busy trying to resist the urge to rest his head on Arthur's shoulder, that he missed whatever Elena's reply was. Next time he was able to concentrate, she was on her feet.

"I'm off to the bar. Same again?"

Arthur nodded lazily. It seemed that the stroking was relaxing him as much as it was Merlin.

"Merlin, what you having?"

"He'll have the same as me," Arthur replied, running the tip of one finger around the edge of Merlin's ear.

Elena just grinned and muttered something about "adorable"; Merlin pretended not to have heard.  
Now the crowd had thinned slightly, Merlin thought it might be the perfect opportunity to make a break for it. Not that he planned to abandon Arthur for the evening – things were going so beyond well that he had no intention of that – but he needed to get away for a few minutes, sort his head out, and other more urgent problems. And there was no way he'd be able to do that under Arthur's covetous touch.

He shifted on the sofa in an attempt to get up. It wasn't as easy as it looked. The sofas were low, and deep, and Merlin was still pretty much hemmed in by Arthur. He was just trying to slide forward, when Arthur's fingers circled his arm.

"Where're you going?"

Merlin looked down at Arthur's fingers against his pale skin. The grip wasn't tight, but there was something possessive in the action that caused a slow burn of want in Merlin's belly.

"Just to the loo," he said, and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Arthur nodded, satisfied. He released Merlin's arm and gave him a helpful shove to the edge of the seat.

"Back in a minute," Merlin muttered as he struggled to his feet.

"Merlin!"

Merlin had made it only a few steps when he heard Arthur's voice call out. "Yeah?"

"If you see Percy in there, just remember he's straight."

*

Arthur watched Merlin as he made his way across the room. Long-limbed and skinny, he wasn't the usual type that Arthur went for, but there was something in his smile, the twinkle in his eyes and, god help him, those ears, that had captured Arthur's attention.

"He seems nice."

Leon was watching him, a knowing smile on his face, and Arthur knew dissembling would be futile.  
"Yeah. He is."

"Not your usual type, though," Leon said carefully, and reached for his drink.

Though his words paralleled Arthur's own thoughts of a few moments before, he felt defensive nonetheless. "In what way?"

"Well, he seems sane for starters."

Arthur laughed. There really was no other response. And anyway, Leon had quite a point. His romantic past, Sophia notwithstanding, was chequered at best. But Merlin, he was different to everything Arthur had ever looked for in a partner before, male or female. And yet there was something discernable already, even after this short period of time, and Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had _itched_ to touch in quite the way he did right now.

"Sanity is always a good place to start," he said finally, grinning back at his friend. Only Leon was no longer looking at him, his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere beyond Arthur's left shoulder, and the laughter was gone from his face.

Arthur craned his neck to see, although he had a fair enough idea just what had caught Leon's attention. And sure enough, there was Morgana, cheeks flushed and shining from her time on the dance floor, leaning against the bar and gazing at Gwen as if they were the only two people in the world.

Not for the first time Arthur wanted to shake some sense into his sister. He leant forward and clasped Leon's shoulder firmly.

"I wouldn't worry too much. I'm fairly sure she's barking up the wrong tree with that one."

Leon tried his best to look disinterested, and failed miserably. Arthur had known him far too long to be fooled, and in any case, he was more than aware of his best friend's longstanding crush on his sister.

"Leave it, yeah?" he said, through obviously gritted teeth.

Of all Arthur's friends, Leon was the one he was closest too. The one he had known since childhood, trusted beyond measure. When Arthur came out during university, Leon's only words on the subject had been ones of pride for his courage. And that was why Leon was the only one of his teammates that Arthur would even tolerate _looking_ at Morgana, much less encourage their feelings.

Arthur watched Leon as he tried _not_ to watch Morgana flirting openly with Gwen, and racked his brains for something to say, for the ability to be as strong and supportive as he knew his friend would be for him in return. But Arthur was no motivational speaker, and bi though he was, he was still very much a lad – complete with the pre-requisite fear of emotional vulnerability.

So he watched the awkward scene for a while longer, his hand tightening on Leon's shoulder as Morgana gently brushed a wayward curl back from Gwen's face.

"You need to make a move, mate," he said finally. "And soon."

Leon turned to look at him, a rebuttal clearly on his lips, but Arthur's attention quickly shifted elsewhere.

"Speaking of which..." Arthur tailed off as his eyes busily devoured every inch of Merlin's approaching form, and suddenly his mind was full of the possibility of those long, loose limbs wrapped round his own body, of licking his way along the pale curve of Merlin's throat, of—

"Arthur?"

"Huh?" Arthur didn't even bother to look at Leon, because Merlin had already spotted him looking and now has a delightfully nervous smile on his face.

"Never mind." Arthur felt rather than saw Leon shake his head, but the amusement in his tone was clear. "Go and make a move of your own."

Arthur didn't need telling twice. He was on his feet in seconds, and a few lengthy strides brought him quickly to where Merlin now stood, eyes wide in surprise, and something that looked remarkably like anticipation.

"Dance with me." Arthur wasted no time waiting for Merlin's reply, preferring instead to take hold of his hand and lead him, inexorably, towards the dance floor.

The music no longer had the pulsing beat of Gaga or Madonna, but equally it was still too fast to warrant what Arthur had in mind. Fortunately, Arthur didn't give a fuck about convention.

His hands were on Merlin's hips before they'd even stopped moving, thumbs stroking gently over the jut of hipbones, making Merlin's eyes darken instantly.

Arthur took a moment to appreciate the look on Merlin's face – a delightful mix of apprehension and _want_. He watched as Merlin's tongue peeked out and quickly slid over his lips, and if Arthur hadn't already been fighting the urge to _ravish_ – audience be damned – he most certainly was now.

Instead, he bit back a groan and gathered up the tattered remnants of his self-control. " _I_ don't bite either," he said finally and tugged Merlin closer.

Merlin peeked up at him through thick, dark lashes. He looked almost coy. "Pity," was all he said, but the glint in his eyes spoke the rest.

 _He's flirting with me_. The realisation sounded loud in Arthur's brain, louder still than the blood pounding in his ears, and he made no effort to stifle _this_ groan. Granted, Merlin hadn't exactly been fighting him off up to now, but it had all be fairly passive. This, this encouragement, this invitation, whatever the hell it was, implied so much more.

His grip tightened on Merlin's hips, fingertips digging into the soft, warm skin. Then Merlin stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between them, and placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders.  
"I should warn you, I'm not very good at this," he said, and they were so close now that Arthur could just make out the faint brush of freckles across the bridge of Merlin's nose.

He wasn't sure if Merlin meant the dance, whatever was happening between them right then, or the direction that Arthur was certain they both knew the evening was heading in, and he had no intention of ruining the moment with needless questions.

"Luckily for you," he replied, lips grazing Merlin's ear, "you're in the hands of an expert.

**********

There was an insistent throbbing behind Merlin's temples when he woke up, and his tongue felt remarkably like something had died on it. He knew instantly he wasn't in his own bed – the lack of springs digging into his hip was the first clue, the second was the arm draped securely around his waist.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut tight and mentally berated himself with every conceivable insult. He'd made a promise to himself after things turned sour with Gwaine, that he'd be more careful in the future. No more jumping in feet first, all because of a charming smile or pretty eyes.

But Arthur...well, for starters, he had both of those things, but so much more besides. And Merlin knew he was already lost. He struggled to stifle a groan at that realisation – Gwen was going to kill him this time. And with that, Merlin figured that he might as well make the most of it. Even if it all went to hell in a few hours, he still had this moment, the weight of Arthur's arm around him, the warmth of Arthur's body pressed against his back, and the soothing ghost of Arthur's breath against the nape of his neck. Merlin allowed himself to relax back into the embrace and the sense of contentment.

For a few minutes, at least. Until his bladder got other ideas.

He toyed with the idea of ignoring it, of nestling back into the warmth of Arthur's body, but a small part of his brain pointed out that if Arthur woke up with something other than breakfast on his mind, nothing would kill the passion quicker than a full bladder.

It took a minute or two, and some careful manoeuvring, for Merlin to extricate himself from Arthur's hold without waking him. Even after their extremely late night, Arthur still looked somewhere near perfect – except for the odd rogue tuft of hair sticking out at right angles – and Merlin was equally certain that he did _not_. He planned to restore himself to something passing human before Arthur laid eyes on him.

He was halfway to the door before Merlin remembered that Arthur didn't live alone. He and Morgana were good friends, but Merlin was pretty sure that they weren't at the _seeing each other naked_ stage yet. Then he gave his head a quick shake and wondered when the hell the need for that stage of friendship would ever arise.

His pants, when he found them, were hooked over the top of Arthur's TV. Merlin had a blurry memory of them being tugged off with some urgency, but tried to keep his mind away from such thoughts until he had dealt with more pressing matters. Instead, he silently thanked whoever was listening that he'd thought to wear a pair of his more presentable underwear – the Sponge Bob Squarepants boxers that Gwen had bought as a birthday present would have been the quickest way to ensure he never saw Arthur again.

It was only once he was on the other side of the bedroom door, in the middle of a flat that looked like it was fresh of the pages of those fancy house magazines his mum _ooohed_ and _ahhhed_ over, that Merlin realised he was pretty much lost. The flat had been shrouded in darkness the night before, and frankly Arthur had been far too occupied with more interesting activities to give him the guided tour.

He tried a couple of doors as quietly as he could, and carefully avoided the one with a clutter of shoes, handbag and coat dumped on the floor outside -- he had the feeling Morgana was already going to be a little pissed off at him, and waking her up at this hour on a Sunday would not make the best case for the defence.

Just as the mop bucket in the unnaturally organised cleaning cupboard was beginning to look appealing, Merlin finally got lucky. He slid into the dark bathroom and locked the door behind him with a sigh of relief. He pulled the light cord reluctantly and winced against the stark unnaturally bright light. He shuffled over to the toilet, the tile cold beneath his bare feet, and after a moment's hesitation he opted to sit down – the burn of his thigh muscles the deciding factor.

Merlin quickly made use of the facilities and then got too his feet – a little too quickly apparently, as a sudden rush of blood to his head caused the throbbing to increase tenfold. He braced his hands on the corners of the vanity unit and steeled himself to face his reflection – if ever there was a human embodiment of the word debauched, Merlin's reflection staring back at him from the ornately-framed mirror was it.

His hair, never the neatest at the best of times, seemed to have been mysteriously replaced overnight with a rather large and unkempt hedgehog. And when Merlin raised one damp hand, in a desperate attempt for some control, he encountered a very definite knot on the back of his head. And while his reflection flushed back at him, Merlin chalked this up as another mark in the _why I should cut my hair short_ column.

His hair was easily dealt with. The paleness of his skin, well, he had always borne a passing resemblance to Casper, so there was little to be done there. And the dark smudges under his eyes would just have to stay unless Merlin was of a mind to borrow Morgana's make up – which he very definitely wasn't. But worse, the one thing that there was no hiding, and that was thrilling and horrifying Merlin in equal measure, was the vivid bite mark at the base of his throat, and several fainter, smaller ones, dotted along his collar bone.

Merlin thanked god that his work t-shirt had a collar and would hopefully button up over the evidence of Arthur's attentions. The last thing he needed was Gwen forcing him to cover up with one of those ugly blue plasters, like she did to the very _friendly_ student who shared Merlin's Monday shift.

Resigning himself to his fate, and making a mental plan to return the favour to Arthur if he got the chance, Merlin splashed some water over his face and hoped for the best.

The best was not forthcoming.

Either Merlin had not been as stealthy as he thought, or Morgana had some built in sensor for waking up at the most inopportune moments. Whichever it was hardly mattered, because it didn't alter the fact that there she was, hovering over the coffee machine, mug in one hand and the other tapping out a restless rhythm on the worktop. Merlin held his breath – the memory of his reflection making him even less keen to run into his friend without the benefit of clothes.

"Sit."

The word was soft, barely loud enough for Merlin to hear, but he did, _and_ the unspoken force behind it. He cast one, almost longing glance in the direction of Arthur's room, and then his shoulders slumped with the knowledge that the sleepy morning-after sex was very definitely off the cards now.

Merlin sat – the smooth wood of the chair cold and hard against the bare skin of his back – and jiggled one leg nervously. As he waited for Morgana to turn around, for the jarring staccato of her nails against the marble to cease, he psyched himself up for a conversation he was sure would prove awkward at best, and, knowing Morgana's temperament, explosive at worst.

There was the soft clink of metal against china, and finally Morgana turned around, a steaming mug in each hand. Even in her pyjamas and free of makeup, Morgana was still breathtaking, and her appearance only served to make Merlin even more aware of his own.

She placed one of the mugs in front of him. "You look like you could use a caffeine shot," she said, with a wry smile that gave Merlin hope all was not lost.

"Thanks," he replied, his voice tellingly croaky, and wrapped his hands gratefully around the cup.

Morgana took the seat opposite, placed her drink on the table, and then just _looked_ at Merlin. Her gaze was so intense that it was like Merlin could feel her peeling back the layers of his mind. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed – mentally and physically.

"What?"

The moment Morgana took in the marks on his throat was obvious. The way her gaze lingered, eyes narrowed and her lips ever so slightly tensed. Instead of replying straight away, she reached for her drink and sipped it slowly.

"We need to talk," she said finally. "Or rather, I need to talk, and you most definitely need to listen."

There was something about the gentle, almost sympathetic tone of her voice that set Merlin's nerves on edge, and his mind raced away with possibilities. But he didn't speak. He just nodded his head and tried his hardest to meet her gaze head on.

"I don't normally get involved." Morgana looked down at her drink and absently trailed one perfectly-manicured finger around the rim. "What Arthur gets up to is none of my business. But I _know_ you, we're friends, and I can't sit back and watch you get hurt."

"I'm a big boy, Morgana." Merlin gave a shaky smile. "I think I can take care of myself."

Morgana shook her head and let out a frustrated huff. "That's not what...you have to understand; he does this a lot. Arthur, I mean." She wrapped her fingers lightly around her mug. "He's an arsehole," she added bluntly. "I told him to stay away from you."

"You told him to stay away from me?" Merlin repeated slowly, not sure if he should be offended or not. "Why?"

"Because I know him, Merlin. Sharing this flat with him for the last eight months...well, let's just say that you're not the first person I've bumped into over breakfast." She paused here and took a sip of her coffee before adding, "And you won't be the last."

Despite the fact that Merlin had prepared for this, had told himself repeatedly not to read too much into it, that Arthur could never possibly be interested in someone like him, he still experienced a definite sinking feeling at Morgana's words. "How often is a lot?" he asked finally, hating himself for asking, and for how uncertain his voice sounded.

"Huh?" A slight frown of confusion creased Morgana's smooth brow.

"You said he does this a lot," Merlin clarified, and was relieved to find his tone returned to normal this time.

Morgana met his gaze steadily. "Two, maybe three times a month."

Merlin definitely felt a little sick and he was pretty sure his hangover wasn't responsible. He wasn't a complete idiot – he hadn't been expecting Arthur to declare his love after one night, but he'd thought it had meant _something_ at least. The way Arthur had looked, had touched him, had implied more, and to find out that he was just another warm body in a seemingly endless line of willing fucks...

"He doesn't mean to hurt people." Morgana's tone was earnest and she reached across the table for Merlin's hands. "He just forgets that not everybody has the same casual attitude to sex. I've had to usher more than one weeping girl out of here the morning after." She squeezed Merlin's hand gently. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you."

Merlin gave his best fake smile, because the obvious sympathy on Morgana's face was setting his nerves on edge, and he really couldn't bear it. "There's nothing to apologise for," he said, and gently freed his hand from her grasp. "Look, no tears," he added, far more brightly than he felt.

Morgana smiled but didn't look convinced. "You don't have to—"

"I'm fine. Honestly." Merlin scraped back his chair and got to his feet – smile still firmly in place. "Although, I would have preferred not to have had this conversation in my underwear."

Morgana gave a shaky laugh of her own. "Sorry about that."

"Stop apologising. This really isn't as big a deal as you're making it."

"So we're okay?"

"More than okay," Merlin confirmed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put some clothes on, head home, and then crawl under my duvet until the banging in my head recedes a little."

The walk back to Arthur's room felt far longer than the few short feet that Merlin knew it was – and it didn't help that he could feel Morgana's gaze on him the whole way. He opened the door slowly and just prayed that Arthur was still asleep – in the light of Morgana's words, Merlin really didn't fancy awkward morning-after conversations. And he still had a little dignity left that the wanted to hang on to.

Fortunately Arthur was still slumbering peacefully, nestled among the numerous pillows with such a look of contentment on his face that it was all Merlin could do not to reach out and touch, to sweep the golden strands back off his forehead, to trail fingertips along the firm line of Arthur's jaw, to lean in and count the eyelashes he knew from experience was both thick and numerous.

But he didn't.

The combination of his hangover, and the sickening lurch of disappointment that still assailed him, were more than enough to keep Merlin focussed. He pulled his jeans on first, and then slipped into last night's shirt, which now resembled little more than a crumpled rag, and appeared to have several buttons missing. His socks were nowhere to be found, and in the end Merlin gave up – the urge to flee was growing in strength with every passing minute he spent in Arthur's presence, so he crammed his bare feet into his shoes and tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation.

His phone was miraculously still intact and safely stowed in his jeans' pocket. A quick glance at the screen showed numerous missed calls, all of them from Gwen, but Merlin had no intention of returning them. He was hoping she would take one look at him and see through the false bravado that seemed to have Morgana fooled, and spend the rest of the day plying him with comfort food and sympathy – much like she did the last time Merlin was careless with his heart.

Merlin gave one last glance towards the bed and had to fight the urge to climb back in, to burrow under the covers and into Arthur's embrace. But as tempting as the prospect was, Merlin would much rather leave things as they were – a pleasant memory – than risk having it all turn sour when Arthur asked him to leave.

Morgana hadn't moved from her spot at the table when Merlin emerged. She gave a small smile. "All right?"

Merlin nodded. "I'm going to head off now," he replied, as if this wasn't obvious as he tugged his jacket on.

"I could give you a lift?" Morgana offered, and got to her feet.

Merlin shook his head quickly. "I'll get the Tube." He vaguely remembered the direction from the night before, and anything would be preferable to the awkward silence that would doubtless accompany such a car journey.

"At least let me give you some money."

"I don't charge by the hour, you know," Merlin snapped. He knew that wasn't how Morgana meant it, but the experience had left him feeling sordid enough already.

Morgana's eyes widened in horror and the hand that was reaching for her bag stilled instantly. "I meant for the fare," she said hurriedly. "God, Merlin, I didn't...I would never..."

"It's fine." Merlin waved her protests aside. He rubbed tiredly at his face. "I didn't get much sleep last night and I think it's catching up with me."

"That's way more information than I needed," Morgana teased gently.

Merlin flushed and then smiled genuinely for the first time that morning. "I'm just going to go, before I say anything worse." He turned and headed towards the door.

"Merlin?"

Merlin came to a stop, his hand already hovering over the latch. "Yeah?"

"I'll speak to you on Monday." It came out as more of a question than a statement, and Merlin nodded.

"Of course."

**********

Arthur was in a foul mood. It wasn't bad enough that he'd woken up with a pounding head, and alone, but on top of that he'd just played probably the worst game of football in his life. Numerous shots on goal had swiftly turned into missed opportunities, and his teammates' endless speculation about the cause of his lack lustre performance hadn't helped.

Arthur was self-aware enough to know that his behaviour sometimes came off as arrogance, and he was honest enough to admit that this really was the case on occasion, which was why he recognised the main cause of his mood for what it really was – wounded pride.

When he'd reached out that morning, expecting to touch warm, willing flesh, and found only cold sheets instead, Arthur had actually felt hurt. Merlin had been the first person in a long time to actually capture his interest, as something more than potential shag. It wasn't like he'd been planning to propose or anything, but an actual date had been very much on the cards.

So to find that Merlin had fled, that apparently their night had meant little more than the anonymous trysts that Arthur usually indulged in, well, it hurt. Just a little.

Over the course of the day, though, with his humiliation escalating, Arthur's hurt had twisted, morphed, until it resembled something much more like anger. Because how dare Merlin leave like that, without as much as a word. Arthur Pendragon was a catch – he had that on good authority – and Merlin was just this scrawny bloke with gangly limbs, big ears, and...the loveliest eyes Arthur had ever seen.

 _Shit! That really wasn't good._ So Arthur did what any sensible person would do in that situation, he grabbed a four pack of Carling from the fridge and slumped on the sofa in front of another Top Gear repeat on Dave.

He was three cans in by the time Morgana came home. She stood pointedly between him and the telly, arms folded, and bitch expression firmly in place.

"Go away, Morgana," Arthur said tiredly. "I'm really not in the mood for you right now."

"Tough." Morgana stepped closer and grabbed the remote. She promptly muted the TV.

"I was watching that," Arthur protested, but made no effort to remedy the problem.

Morgana ignored his protest. She turned back from the TV and the anger was clearly visible on her face. "I told you to stay away from Merlin," she snapped. "What part of that made you think it would be a good idea to sleep with him instead?"

Arthur's scowl deepened. "I really don't think my sex life is any concern of yours."

"It is when it concerns my friends," Morgana snapped. "And when I keep meeting your conquests over breakfast."

What Arthur really wanted to do was point out bitterly that the only one left with hurt feelings was him, that Merlin had crept out in the early hours leaving Arthur feeling...well, confused.

"You don't have to worry about Merlin," he muttered sullenly, then he stilled. "Hang on, did you _see_ him this morning?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Morgana had a weird expression on her face, the one that she thought made her look innocent, but in fact was usually a sure indicator that she had just stitched her brother up in some way.

"What did you say to make him leave?" Arthur kept his hands tightly wrapped around his can, lest the temptation to throttle his sister should prove too great.

Morgana scoffed. "You just can't handle being ditched first, can you? Do you get some perverse kick out of throwing people out of your bed?"

"For your information, I had no intention of kicking him out of bed, or anywhere else for that matter." Arthur's eyes widened a little in alarm after he'd finished speaking. The last thing he'd intended to do was bare his soul, especially not to Morgana, who was just as likely to use it against him as sympathise. Yet she always knew how to get under his skin, to get him to admit things that he barely realised were true.

"Of course you weren't." Morgana's tone was disbelieving at best. "What makes him so different to the rest of them?"

Arthur raked one hand through his hair while he pondered how best to answer. "Merlin's different," he said eventually. "He's not like the others."

"You have no idea what Merlin's like." Morgana was in full bitch mode now. "Merlin's _my_ friend."

"It's not a competition." But even as he said the words, Arthur realised that it probably was, that it always had been between them, which probably went some way to explaining Morgana's anger.

"He's my friend," Morgana repeated, as if Arthur hadn't spoken. "And I'm not going to let you use him like you always do. Merlin _isn't_ like the rest, you're right. And the last thing he needs is someone like you messing him around."

Arthur leant back in his seat and eyed her consideringly. "So you _did_ say something."

Morgana remained silent.

"Morgana." Arthur leant forward and reached for her arm.

Morgana shook him off easily. "Don't touch me," she snapped.

"Well, answer me then. What did you say?"

"Why do you care? Pride a little wounded, is it?"

"Just tell me."

Morgana tossed her hair back and levelled a cool gaze on her brother. "Fine. I told him the truth."

Arthur leant further forward, one hand clenched so hard that his knuckles whitened, but Morgana continued – either oblivious, or immune to his reaction.

"I told him he was the latest in a long line of conquests. That this is what you do – charm your way into people's pants and then discard them before breakfast."

Arthur slammed his drink onto the table. "You had no right!"

"I had every right." Morgana's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm not going to let you hurt my friends."

Arthur didn't reply straight away. He took a couple of deep breaths, hoping to calm down the anger he could feel bubbling under the surface. Morgana, more than anyone – even his father – had always been able to evoke this reaction in him. "I wasn't planning to hurt him," Arthur said finally. "I thought...look, why don't you just give me his number and I can explain everything to him."

"I don't think so somehow. Merlin's had enough trouble with men this year – the last thing he needs is someone like you messing him around."

"It's nice that you have such a high opinion of me."

Morgana didn't reply. She picked up her bag off the table and turned towards her room. She opened the door and then paused. "Just stay away from him." Her eyes spoke of dire consequences as she glared at Arthur over her shoulder.

Before Arthur could respond, the door slammed shut behind her. He reached for his drink and once again slumped back into the sofa. It took a few moments for him to realise he was staring at a still-muted TV, but not even the sight of Jeremy Clarkson & Co blowing up another caravan was enough to shift the black mood he was in. But one thing was for certain, regardless of Morgana's commands – or maybe in part because of them—there was no way he was giving up on Merlin yet.

**********

Merlin handled the tray carefully and weaved his way through the tables now filled with the after-work rush – giggling schoolgirls huddled over phones well outside of Merlin's price range, and grey-suited city workers, their tables cluttered with laptops and papers, clearly unable to leave the job behind at 5pm.

He preferred this part of the shift, truth be told; especially at the moment. The constant stream of customers, the steady hiss of coffee machines, and the regular beep of the till all left very little time to think. Which, when your mind was still dwelling on things, or people, best forgotten, was something of a godsend.

It was four days since he'd laid eyes on Arthur, and despite that, and his best efforts, Merlin could not quite shift him from his mind. The harder he tried, the more stubbornly Arthur seemed to remain. Added to that, the whole experience had left him feeling a little raw and exposed, and memories of Gwaine, which Merlin had thought long since buried, now chose to resurface.

"Merlin."

Pulled from his thoughts, Merlin looked up and found Gwen watching him. He stepped back behind the counter and smiled. "Yeah?"

"I need you to take over the till for a bit. I'm going on break in a minute."

Merlin nodded. "Sure, okay. Let me just put this—"

Merlin's words were cut off by a loud crash as several cups slid off the tray in his hands.

"Oh, shit!" He glanced warily at Gwen – this wasn't his first bout of breakages this week by any stretch of the imagination. "Sorry. I'll just grab the brush."

Gwen shook her head, a flash of irritation visible in her eyes. "Don't bother. The way you've been this week, you'll probably end up cutting yourself."

Merlin flushed but didn't refute it. He simply stood silently by while Gwen efficiently swept up the broken crockery.

"What's wrong with you, Merlin?" she asked quietly, scooping the debris into a dustpan.

Merlin shook his head. "Nothing. It was just an accident."

"It's the fifth one you've had this week. And you're only on your second shift!" Gwen dumped the dustpan's contents into the nearest bin – the lid closed with a loud _clang_. "You keep this up and I'll have to start docking your wages." There was a glint of humour in her eyes that spoke of teasing, but Merlin really wasn't in the mood.

"I'm just tired, I guess." Merlin rubbed wearily at his face as if to illustrate his point. "Uni work's kicking my arse at the minute, and I'm not exactly sleeping well."

Gwen's lips pursed slightly. "Lie to yourself, Merlin, if that's what you want. But not to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." For the life of him Merlin couldn't keep the slightly petulant tone out of his voice.

Gwen's expression softened slightly. She reached for Merlin's arm and gently tugged him to one side, out of the way of the other staff. "It's about Arthur, isn't it?"

Merlin opened his mouth to refute, but Gwen held up one hand, effectively silencing his denials.

"I'm not going to lecture," she continued, her hand still light on Merlin's arm. "I just want you to be careful. You give your heart away far too quickly. Remember what happened with Gwaine?"

That was a reminder Merlin definitely didn't need. He knew Gwen meant well, but it felt like she had crossed an unwritten line between them. He shrugged her hand off. "I'm not likely to forget that in a hurry, am I?" he bit.

Gwen looked stricken and Merlin was overwhelmed with guilt, because he knew she really did care. But there were certain things he wasn't willing to discuss with anyone, not even her.

Gwen reached out one hand uncertainly, but clearly thought better of it and let it fall back to her side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine." Merlin cut her off with a shake of his head – he just wanted to forget this entire conversation had ever taken place. "Let's just leave it, yeah?"

Gwen didn't look convinced, which wasn't really that surprising – she'd always been able to see right through Merlin. But the fates appeared to be on Merlin's side for once, because Morgana chose that moment to approach the counter. Merlin hadn't seen her since that awkward breakfast conversation on Sunday, but right now he couldn't have been more pleased to see her.

"Morgana's here," he said, with a nod at the counter.

Gwen turned slightly and a smile replaced the worried frown on her face. "She mentioned she might drop by earlier. Something terribly urgent to discuss apparently." Gwen turned the smile back on Merlin. "You know how dramatic she gets."

Merlin nodded, because really he did. "Why don't you put her out of her misery then?"

"I can't just—"

"You were about to go on your break anyway." Merlin placed his hands on Gwen's shoulders and turned her. "Go," he said, with a gentle push.

Gwen went reluctantly with a meaningful glance backwards that told Merlin they would be revisiting this conversation at some point. But he'd worry about that when the time came. For now, he just returned Morgana's wary smile with a much more certain one of his own, and then moved over to take his place at the till.

There were quite a few people waiting, so Merlin did his best to concentrate – and the steady flow of customers really did help him to focus.

He knew deep down that Gwen was right – he did fall too quickly, he always had; starting with his ill-advised romance with Will, and continuing right up to the mess that had been his relationship with Gwaine. Merlin could have kicked himself for not seeing it coming, for not knowing right off what Arthur was, for allowing himself to be charmed by shiny hair and pretty eyes. For the last four days Merlin had constantly berated himself for being so silly, for reading so much into what blatantly had only ever been a one night stand. But in those rare, fleeting moments, when Merlin was willing to be honest with himself, he knew it was too late, that Arthur was already under his skin, and that there was nothing to do but wait it out.

Which was easier said than done, because at that moment Merlin looked up and saw Arthur walking purposefully towards him. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he was wearing shorts. And all that Merlin could think of at that point was that the last time he had seen those bare legs, they had been wrapped snugly around his waist.

Merlin served his last customer and then there was no barrier left between Arthur and him. He had no idea if he was even going to be able to speak without turning bright red, but he had no option but to find out.

"Welcome to _The Magic Bean_. What can I get for you today?"

The use of the official greeting seemed to stall Arthur in his tracks – a small frown obvious on his brow. "Come on, Merlin. We're a bit past formalities, aren’t we?" And there it was again, that boyish grin, and Merlin was no longer sure he could resist.

He allowed a small smile to grace his face. "Hello, Arthur," Merlin said quietly, not remotely thinking about the way that name felt on his lips. "What can I get for you?"

Arthur rested one arm on the counter and leant forward slightly. "I missed you the other morning."

Merlin didn't need to see his reflection to know that his face was burning up – he could practically feel the heat radiating from his skin. And it didn't help that there was a queue starting to form.  
"I thought I'd save you the trouble of kicking me out," Merlin snapped finally, acute embarrassment shortening his temper.

The expression on Arthur's face faltered. His smile faded, and his lips straightened into a thin, tight line. "Listen, Merlin, I know what Morgana said, but I—"

"Can I take your order, please, sir?" Merlin winced when he heard how his voice had risen, and the fact that he could see both Morgana and Gwen looking in his direction wasn't helping – they were both clearly debating whether to intervene.

Arthur opened his mouth, and from the stubborn set of his face, Merlin fully expected him to argue. But the restless mutterings now audible from the queue behind seemed to quell him.

"Fine," Arthur said eventually through gritted teeth. "I'll have a black coffee."

Merlin made no effort to run through his usual spiel, made no attempt to sell Arthur anything further, he just rang up the sale and wished Arthur far away. "That'll be two pounds, please." Merlin did his best to avoid eye contact.

Arthur pressed the exact change into his hand, but before Merlin could pull away, Arthur's fingers had gripped his wrist. "This isn't over," he said very quietly. "I don't give up easily."

Then his fingers were gone just as quickly, and by the time Merlin remembered to breathe, Arthur had already moved to the end of the counter and was waiting for his drink.

Merlin turned his attention back to the queue and desperately willed away the vivid flush painting his cheeks. He tried to concentrate, but found that Arthur's nearness, and heavy gaze, only made him more flustered than ever.

The relief when Arthur's order was called up was palpable – though it took every ounce of Merlin's will power not to watch Arthur walk away. However tempting those shorts might have been. But when he didn't hear the familiar _ding_ of the door, Merlin had to take a peek. Arthur hadn't gone. He was still very much there. His lips wrapped around his coffee in a way that was doubtless designed to drive Merlin crazy.

Morgana looked less than pleased to have her brother sit beside her. Gwen simply looked a little uncomfortable, and Arthur, well if Merlin didn't know better, he'd think Arthur was completely oblivious to the death stares his sister was shooting him.

Merlin had just finished serving his next customer when Morgana sprang to her feet. She aimed a malevolent glare at Arthur, and an apologetic one at Gwen, before she spun on her heel and exited the shop with a grace that drew several admiring glances.

Gwen got to her feet moments later, but Merlin watched unashamedly as Arthur reached out and placed a hand on her arm. Next thing, Gwen had sat back down at the table, and Merlin struggled to focus on his job and not on the way Arthur was smiling at Gwen.

There was something disarming about Arthur's smile – it seemed so warm and genuine, and Merlin knew from experience how it made you feel like the most important person in the world. So, try as he might, and Merlin really really did try hard, it was a struggle for him to keep Morgana's warning alive in his head.

**********

The text messages started on Friday.

The first time his phone vibrated, Merlin checked it without a second thought.

I WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN.

It was from an unknown number and for a split second the lack of name made Merlin think it was Gwaine. But before he had chance to descend into a full blown panic, his phone vibrated again. Merlin opened the text with more than a little trepidation.

IT'S ARTHUR, BY THE WAY.

Merlin never thought he'd be pleased to see that, but the relief he felt was immense and distracted him from wondering just how the hell Arthur got hold of his number. Merlin reread the text and smiled – Arthur was possibly the only person he knew who actually punctuated his texts correctly. It was quite endearing really.

He didn't reply though. For starters he was at work – friend or not, Gwen frowned heavily on staff texting while on the clock – but mainly because he had no idea what to say. Because there was a large part of Merlin's brain telling him to be sensible, to block Arthur's number and to never look back. But there was another part, smaller maybe, but no less vocal, that demanded he take a risk.

So instead, Merlin left his phone in the office, under the curious gaze of Gwen, and there it remained until the end of his shift.

Arthur wasn't one to be put off easily it seemed. Because when Merlin collected his phone at six, there were another fifteen messages waiting for him, and despite himself, Merlin couldn't help but find it quite sweet.

He dragged on his jacket and headed out of the door, his thumb scrolling through the numerous messages while a small smile played around the edges of his lips. He was just about to send a reply, because, well, it was only polite, but before Merlin could come up with something remotely appropriate, Arthur was there. Literally.

He was leaning against the bus stop opposite, obviously fresh from the office if his outfit was anything to go by. And damn, if Merlin had thought Arthur looked good in shorts, it was nothing compared to the sight of him in a tailored suit, sunglasses perched atop his blond locks, glinting in the fading sunlight, and a half smile quirking his lips.

"Hi," Merlin said uncertainly, and squinted against the setting sun.

Arthur pushed away from the bus stop and stepped closer, the illusion of confidence fading just slightly the closer he got. "Hey. I was just passing and I ..." Arthur tailed off, his eyes dropping to the phone in Merlin's hand. "You didn't reply."

"Work," Merlin explained, with a nod at the shop behind him. "I was going to though. To all seventeen of them."

A hint of a flush dotted along Arthur's cheekbones and he shifted awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry about that." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "I get a bit impatient sometimes."

Merlin allowed himself to smile. "'S'okay. I was very impressed with how correct they all were."

The teasing in Merlin's tone was obvious and the flush in Arthur's cheeks deepened. "There's no excuse for poor grammar," he muttered.

Merlin was fairly sure he should be annoyed and slightly freaked out by Arthur's behaviour. After all, the last time they'd met Merlin had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't interested. So the texts and the waiting outside of work for him were borderline stalkerish. But try as he might, Merlin just couldn't do it. At least, not when Arthur was in front of him, looking all handsome and charming, and...hot.

"So, do you want to go for a drink or something?"

Arthur's expression was a little hopeful and Merlin really was tempted, but...

"I can't," he said, and was surprised to find out just how reluctant he was. "I've got a bunch of essays to mark by the morning, and a class to prepare for."

"Right." Arthur didn't sound convinced.

"Really," Merlin said. "Maybe another time? You could give me a ring seeing as you seem to have obtained my number from somewhere. _Who_ did you get that off, just out of interest?"

"I can't tell you all of my secrets straight off, Merlin." Arthur glanced coyly at him through thick lashes.

"Morgana," Merlin guessed, resolutely ignoring the twisting sensation in the pit of his belly.

Arthur laughed. "Hardly. Not after the horror stories she's been feeding you about me."

Merlin shifted awkwardly and looked away. "She didn't...I mean, it's just..."

"It's okay. She told me what she said." Arthur paused here and gazed at Merlin thoughtfully. "Look, I'm not going to deny that some of it's true, but I'm not quite the bastard she likes to make out. Just give me a chance to prove it?"

There was that hopeful look again, and Merlin knew before he said it what his eventual answer would be. "Why?" he asked in an effort to look less eager.

Arthur shrugged. "There's something about you, Merlin."

"Okay," Merlin said finally. His brain was still telling him not to, but Merlin would be the first to admit he wasn't very sensible when it came to matters of the heart. And besides, Arthur was right there in front of him, looking all kinds of edible in his dark suit, so there was no way Merlin could hold out against that.

If it was possible, Arthur's smile appeared even brighter than before. "Good. That's...good." He paused and then looked thoughtful for a moment. "How about Sunday? Are you free then?"

Merlin nodded slowly. "I don't have anything planned. Unless you count sleeping in till noon."

"There's this football match," Arthur said, and Merlin couldn't help but smile at how uncertain of himself he sounded. "Though it's probably not your thing, right?" And before Merlin could answer, he continued, "It's a stupid idea. Forget it."

"It's not stupid," Merlin replied quickly, although football was by no means his favourite sport. "Are you playing?"

"Yeah. It's only Sunday league – we're not talking Premiership or anything. But if we win this one, we're in the quarter finals of the league cup."

"Sounds like fun." Merlin hoped he didn't sound as sceptical as he felt.

Arthur looked less than convinced, so it was possible he had failed. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. We can do something else, only it would have to be another day, because I pretty much have to be there."

"Arthur, it's fine. I'd like to come."

"You're sure? I mean, the weather's meant to be nice, and Elena will be there, so you won't be on your own on the sidelines. In fact, she's been bugging me to meet you again all week."

That came as something of a relief. "I'm sure," Merlin replied firmly. "Your friends seem nice," he added as an afterthought.

"They are." Then Arthur chuckled wryly. "Though, I would say that, wouldn't I?"

Merlin laughed and it came out rather louder than he intended, drawing a few curious stares from the crowded bus stop.

"We'll go to the pub afterwards," Arthur said, as though this were a deal-breaker, which in many ways it was. "No cocktails for you this time, though."

"You've convinced me." Merlin really wasn't the sporty type, and if he was honest, he would have preferred a meal, or the cinema, or anything a little less 'blokeish' , but there really was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to see Arthur in shorts again. Plus, the fact that Arthur wanted him there, with all of his friends, like he wanted to show Merlin off...well, there was a suspiciously fuzzy feeling in Merlin's chest at the thought of that.

**********

The game had been underway for at least twenty minutes, but Arthur still couldn't stop smiling.

Despite Merlin's earlier agreement, Arthur had spent the last three days obsessively checking his phone, just waiting for a text to say he wasn't coming. It wasn't until he'd knocked on Merlin's front door earlier, and an amused-looking Gwen had ushered her sleepy flatmate outside, that Arthur truly believed it would happen.

It was the weirdest feeling, and Arthur really wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Since his break-up with Freya two years before, Arthur had never allowed himself to get close to anyone else, not  
even Sophia – and he'd _lived_ with her, for a brief, ill-advised period. But Merlin... he'd come along and thrown Arthur's organised little world into chaos.

He was comfortable with his sexuality, had had both male and female partners over the years, but deep down Arthur had always assumed he would eventually marry a girl and settle down to produce the pre-requisite 2.4 children. Because he _could_ , because his family _expected_ , and, to be honest, because Arthur had yet to meet a man he viewed as more than a casual fuck.

So the sight of Merlin huddled next to Elena on the touchline, grinning and chatting away like they were the oldest of friends, well, it was very distracting. But also, kind of nice. It had been a long time since someone had come to watch _Arthur_ , and not just the team as a whole.

Morgana rarely put in an appearance. She absolutely refused to wear flat shoes, and a muddy sports field didn't exactly mix well with her array of designer heels. And anyway, she was still really not happy about the whole Merlin business. Arthur had tried several times to explain that he was genuinely interested, but Morgana was as possessive of her friends as she had been her toys when they were children.

So Arthur tried his hardest to focus on the game. Not only was it an important match for the team, but there was also a significant part of him that wanted to impress Merlin. So when he spotted Leon making a break down the left wing, leaving the opposition's midfield scrambling in his wake, Arthur quickly moved into a clear space and gestured for the ball.

As Leon crossed the ball, two things happened. Firstly, Arthur struggled to break free of a defender who had taken to shirt-pulling, and secondly, Merlin chose that exact moment to become Arthur's personal cheer section.

The moment's hesitation that this caused cost Arthur dear. He slid in for the ball a split second too late, colliding with a defender's ankle rather than his intended target.

"Bloody hell, Arthur. Focus, will you," Leon yelled, clearly rattled by the lost opportunity.

"And he means on the ball," Percy chipped in. "Not on your boyfriend." He then nodded over to where Merlin was standing, looking clearly mortified by what had happened.

Arthur just glared at his teammates and clambered to his feet – ignoring the mud that was now caked to his right thigh. He scanned around again for the ball, but before he could do anything further, he staggered forward, body-checked by one of the opposition.

Arthur turned, ready to give the offender a mouthful, but was beaten to it.

"Fucking fairy."

Arthur was stunned. It wasn't so much the words, although admittedly they were pretty offensive by themselves, but the expression on the other player's face – twisted as it was into a mask of revulsion.

Surprisingly, it was the first time Arthur had ever been confronted with such virulent homophobia. Yes, there had been a few awkward moments at Uni, when he'd first begun _experimenting_ , but Arthur had never been one to _flaunt_ his sexuality, and as he didn't fit people's preconceptions of what a gay man _should_ be like, he'd pretty much passed through life untroubled by such things.

He wasn't ignorant of the intolerance that was out there – which in some ways was double for bisexuals, coming as it did from both sides of the divide – but it was something that happened to other people.

"All right, mate?"

Percy's hand clapped Arthur's shoulder, dragging him from his thoughts.

"Yeah, fine. Just...thinking." Arthur knew he could tell his friends what had happened, that they would leap to his defence without a second thought. But he really didn't want to have them fight his battles for him, and besides, this was an important game, one he wasn't prepared to lose for the sake of some ignorant little fuck who was probably just trying to psyche him out anyway.

Percy reached out and tapped one finger against Arthur's temple. "Think with your feet," he advised sagely, and jogged off down the field.

Arthur glanced over to Merlin, but the earlier pleasure he'd found in Merlin's presence was soured by those two, hate-filled words. So he gave himself a good shake and decided to make his point the best way he knew how – by grinding the opposition's sorry arses into the ground. Metaphorically, of course.

As it turned out, intentions were all very well, but when the necessary opportunities were not forthcoming, there was little to be done. So for the remainder of the first half, and a big chunk of the second, Arthur found himself back-tracking deeper and deeper into the opposition's half, desperately trying to _make_ the opportunity that his midfield were failing to provide.

The filthy looks that were constantly sent Arthur's way by his marker only fuelled the determination to win, and when he spotted Lance shake off his opposite number and start a run down the wing, Arthur tore down field as quickly as he could. A quick pass to Leon set up the sweetest cross that Arthur could have wished for, and working almost on blind instinct he lunged forward, and with a sure tap of his right foot, sunk the ball in the far left corner of the net.

Arthur flopped back on the ground, arms raised in celebration. Not even the late tackle from his _friendly_ defender, with studs digging into Arthur's hip, could spoil the elation he felt. Scoring a goal was always a cause for celebration, but this one was particularly satisfying. Arthur raised himself on his elbows and grinned broadly at his teammates who were currently heading in his direction with the intent of celebrating. He barely had time to glance over at Merlin, who was happily cheering on the sidelines, before four, rather burly footballers threw themselves down on top of him.

Usually the lack of breath and the faint crushing of his vital organs would have been reason for Arthur to protest vociferously. But right at that moment he was too busy grinning to himself – because not only were they minutes away from a place in the quarter finals, but because Merlin had seen him score.

"All right, you lot. I know you want to celebrate, but let's not kill our star player."

Arthur cracked open one eye and looked up to find Percy grinning down at them. There was much grumbling from the excited pile above him, but, as always, when their captain spoke, they listened.

When Leon, the last one, scrambled off him, Arthur took a deep breath and was a little relieved to find his chest hadn't been crushed in the excitement. He reached out and took hold of the hand Percy offered, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"Arthur, I could kiss you." The expression on Percy's face was serious, but the slight twinkle in his eye gave him away.

Arthur let out a loud bark of laughter and then clapped his friend on the arm. "I wouldn't," he teased. "I might enjoy it."

"Might?" Percy actually sounded incredulous. "There's no _might_ about it. My skills are legendary." And without further warning, Percy firmly clamped his large hands either side of Arthur's face and landed a brief but forceful smacker on his lips.

Percy pulled away to the sounds of cheers from his teammates and opposition alike. He gave Arthur an almost sheepish grin which seemed out of place on the strong lines of his face. "Well?"

Arthur chuckled and gave a shake of his head. "Consider my world well and truly rocked."

Percy beamed with more satisfaction than Arthur was sure a heterosexual man should display in such circumstances, but he wasn't going to complain – if anything, he was too busy trying to remain standing. Percy never did quite realise his own strength. Arthur just smiled to himself as he watched his friend jog back down the field, and not for the first time found himself incredibly thankful for just how open and accepting his friends were of _who_ he was.

"So that's how you earned your place on the team, is it?"

The snide words were like a bucket of iced water over Arthur's head. All the previous elation vanished and he turned sharply. "What?"

The expression on the other man's face matched the unpleasant tone of his voice. "Brings a whole new meaning to _taking one for the team_ , doesn't it," he continued, eyes narrowed with malice. "Funny, I didn't have you pegged as the pillow biter. I thought _that_ would be your girlfriend," he nodded in Merlin's direction. "He looks like the sort to take it up the arse."

Arthur had always had a temper; he got that from his father. But years of living with Morgana and her constant attempts at provocation had given him a rather impressive degree of control over it. Slights and slurs aimed in his direction were simply shrugged off, with maybe the occasional superior smile. But this...this was different. _Merlin_ was different. And apparently Arthur's control did not extend to insults aimed at him.

The feel of fist against bone was far more satisfying than Arthur could have imagined. As was the cry of pain that followed. The trickle of blood from the other man's nose was just an added bonus. "Shut your fucking mouth," he snarled, fisting one hand in his victim's shirt, and the other in his stomach.

Chaos exploded on the pitch around them, but Arthur was only vaguely aware of the shouts, of hands trying to pull them apart, the frantic blasts of the Ref's whistle. In a flurry of fists and grunts and insults hurled, Arthur found himself on the ground. Or rather, his opponent was on the ground, while Arthur pinned him to it.

"Get off me, you fucking queer."

Arthur held firm, despite the squirming body underneath him. "Fuck you," he spat, just as a blow to the stomach took his breath away.

"You wish. Sorry to disappoint, homo, but I only get it up for girls."

Arthur dodged a rather poorly aimed head butt, which glanced off his cheekbone. He gave his most insincere grin, even as he tried to ignore the metallic tang of blood against his lips. "Well, you won't be doing that for a while," he huffed. And before Arthur's opponent could voice the look of confusion that currently adorned his face, Arthur raised his right knee rather forcefully between the other man's legs.

Before Arthur could fully appreciate the fruits of his attack – the tortured look of pain, the gasps, the endless expletives, he found himself dragged to his feet and facing a rather stern-looking Percy. When Arthur twisted in his grip, unwilling to give up the fight just yet, Percy gripped his shoulders tightly.

"Enough," he said firmly.

Arthur's temper still had a firm enough hold that he wasn't quite ready to listen just yet. "Let me go," he demanded, craning his head round to where his victim was being helped up by various teammates. "You don't know—"

"Yes, we do," Percy interrupted. His fingers were now digging that tightly into Arthur's shoulders that they were likely to bruise. He gave Arthur a slight shake. "Look at _me_ , not him."

Arthur turned his head back round reluctantly, the anger on his face now settled into a mulish expression. "What?"

"I know what he said." Percy's voice was calm, soothing almost. "Lance heard most of it, and I can guess the rest. But, mate, you need to let it go now. You're already looking at a ban, but if you take it any further...D'you really want him," he nodded towards the ref who was approaching at speed, red card held aloft, "calling the police?"

*********

 

"Don't say anything to him, will you?"

Percy looked sideways at Arthur, the confusion evident on his face. "Say anything to _who_ about _what_?"

Arthur nodded to where Merlin walked just a few feet in front of them, arm in arm with Elena. Both of them chattering happily. "To Merlin. About the fight."

Percy's frown deepened. "I think he already knows, mate. He was _there_ after all."

Arthur shook his head, and then promptly wished he hadn't. The faint throbbing at his temples only increased with the movement, and he could already feel the definite beginnings of a swollen eye. "I mean about _why_. It's already been the most disastrous first date ever. I don't want it ruined even more by Merlin finding out what that arsehole said about him."

Percy slowed down slightly, and then looked from Arthur to Merlin, before turning an amused gaze back on his friend again. "You really have got it bad, haven't you?"

"Fuck off," Arthur muttered, and gave Percy a _friendly_ punch to the arm.

"Oi! No more fighting, you two. It's pub time"

Elena was standing, hands on hips, waiting impatiently for them to catch up. Fortunately the grin on her face gave sufficient indication of her mood.

Arthur increased his pace and soon they drew level. He gave Merlin an uncertain smile – things had been a little quiet between them ever since Arthur's sending off – and was gratified to receive a shy one in return. Thusly encouraged, Arthur slung his arm around Merlin's shoulders and tugged him in a little closer.

"Sorry about earlier," he said quietly, mindful of Percy's and Elena's presence just behind them. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind when I invited you. Promise."

Merlin just laughed softly – the sound caused something tight in Arthur's chest to relax. "I had fun," he said. Then, as his eyes roved intently over Arthur's face, he added, "Apart from, you know, the black eye and everything."

Arthur's lips quirked into a half smile. "I was sort of hoping I might persuade you to kiss it better for me."

Merlin's eyes widened a little and he glanced uncertainly behind them. "Now?" he asked.

Arthur nodded. "Now, and later, too. It's rather painful, so I expect repeated applications will be necessary."

Arthur loved the way Merlin's eyes crinkled when he smiled. Especially when Arthur was the one _making_ him smile. But more than anything he loved the sight of those eyes as they drifted closed, dark lashes fanned against pale cheeks, right before Merlin leaned in to kiss him.

It was a brief kiss, the barest press of lips against the tender flesh along Arthur's cheekbone, and Arthur couldn't work out why that, more than any of the kisses they had shared, was the thing that set his stomach twisting like someone had put it on spin cycle.

"No time for that, you two." Percy clapped a hand on both their shoulders, while Elena scooted in front to open the pub doors. "There's beer to be drunk."

Arthur reluctantly removed his arm from Merlin's shoulder to allow him to pass through the door. Elena promptly grabbed hold of his hand.

"We'll grab a table," she said, already tugging Merlin across the room. "You two can get the drinks in."

Arthur grimaced in her general direction, only for Elena to poke her tongue out in reply. Realising argument was futile, he turned to the bar – just in time for Percy to sling one arm around his shoulder and lean in close.

Arthur turned to face him, eyebrow quirked in question. Percy just gave a grimace of his own, and then nodded across the bar to the other side of the pub. "Looks like it's _really_ not your day."

Arthur followed his gaze with a sinking sensation. There, perched daintily on a stool at the bar, sat Sophia – the ex from hell as Morgana preferred to call her. "Just perfect," he muttered.

"I didn't know she lived round here," Percy commented, whilst trying to catch the barman's eye.

"She doesn't." Arthur did his best to remain hidden behind Percy's bulk. "She lives miles away and wouldn't be caught dead in a pub like this." Arthur rubbed tiredly at his face—he really didn't need this, not after the day he'd already had.

"So she's started again?" Percy asked ominously, with a cautious glance across the bar.

"So it would seem. I haven't heard from her in weeks; I thought it was too good to be true."

"She must be mad," Percy said, and when Arthur nodded agreement, he added, "I mean, why else would she be interested in you."

"Thanks, Perce, that's just what I needed."

"I'm just kidding, mate." Percy grinned. "I happen to think you're quite the catch." Then his smile faded. "Seriously though, we can go somewhere else if you want? There's a couple of other decent pubs round here. "

Arthur shook his head quickly. "No. I'm not letting her chase me away. We always drink here after a match; it's tradition. Besides, I imagine Merlin is already regretting being here after my performance earlier. The last thing I want to do is explain to him we have to leave because my slightly psychotic ex-girlfriend has taken up stalking me again. It hardly makes me an appealing prospect, does it?"

"When you put it like that..." Percy shot another wary glance over the bar – so far it seemed their presence had gone unnoticed. "Look, why don't you go sit down? Leon's here now; he can help me get the beers in."

Arthur wasn't usually one to shy away from confrontation, and even now something within him rebelled at the bare suggestion. But there was just something about Sophia and her own special brand of crazy that had Arthur acquiescing gratefully to Percy's suggestion.

He made his way through the crowded pub, exchanging nods and friendly greetings with some of the regulars along the way. But mostly Arthur just kept his head down and aimed for the table where Merlin and Elena, and now Lance as well, had sequestered themselves.

He slid into the vacant seat at Merlin's side, thankful his back was to the room. Elena glanced at him in surprise and opened her mouth in question, but Arthur cut her off by turning to Merlin with a private sort of smile and murmuring, "All right?"

Merlin gave one of those crinkly-eyed smiles that made Arthur's stomach flip, and nodded. "Yep, I'm good." He paused here and his gaze flitted around the table briefly. "Your friends are really nice."

Arthur was fairly sure he was beaming by now. He was well aware that many of his previous partners had found his relationship with his friends to be faintly incestuous, as close as they were to each other. It had been a major bone of contention in more than one relationship. So to see Merlin not just making an _effort_ to get along with his friends, but actually _doing_ it, well, it left Arthur with a warm and fuzzy feeling that he would deny to the death if ever asked.

All he said in reply though, was, "They really are."

Just the hint of a smile curved Merlin's lips, but his eyes definitely twinkled with something else as he leant in and whispered, "I think you're pretty nice, too."

There was a brief moment when it seemed to Arthur that Merlin was going to kiss him, and his heart skipped with excitement at the prospect, regardless of their surroundings. Arthur was just about to lean in and meet him halfway, when Merlin pulled back, a faint pink blush staining his cheeks.

"Sorry," Merlin said softly. "I forgot where we were for a moment."

Arthur slid one hand under the table and took hold of Merlin's hand, bringing it to rest on his thigh. "It's okay," he replied, and gave the hand a gentle squeeze. "You never have to apologise for that."

It was a lovely moment, Arthur thought. The two of them staring into each other's eyes, so caught up in the moment that their surroundings became meaningless. In fact, it was almost perfect. Right up until the moment Elena snorted loudly and remarked, all too clearly, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Merlin sat back as if stung. Arthur noticed how the tips of his ears flushed bright red along with his face, and longed to trace them with his tongue. Instead, what he did was fix an imperious glare on his friend, who was now busily snickering to herself.

"Problem?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in the manner he normally reserved for intimidating employees.

"You two. You're just so..." Elena gave a vague wave of her hand, "disgustingly cute."

"I'll second that," Percy added, as he placed several pints carefully onto the table in front of them.

"Bollocks," Arthur muttered, before gratefully wrapping his lips around the glass.

"They're right." Leon pulled up a stool at Arthur's side. "You were just as bad at your party. Like a couple of lovesick teenagers."

"Enough." Arthur kept his tone as casual as possible, but he knew his friends would get the message just the same. It wasn't so much that he minded the teasing – he knew it was good-natured, and if anything it warmed his heart at how easily they accepted Merlin's presence. But Arthur could feel Merlin tense slightly at his side, and he was already trying to free his hand from Arthur's.

"They're just winding us up," Arthur said quietly, when talk around the table had already turned to Percy's latest conquest.

"I know," Merlin replied, but removed his hand from Arthur's grasp nonetheless.

"Then why—"

"Toilet," Merlin said, and there was that adorable flush again.

Merlin had barely had time to reach the toilets before Arthur found himself with new company. It was Leon's expression that gave first indication that anything was wrong, and Arthur looked up just in time to see Sophia settle herself comfortably in Merlin's recently vacated chair as if it were where she belonged.

And judging from the smile on her face, Sophia seemed to think that it was.

"Arthur." Sophia flashed him a smile that once would have made his knees weak, but now all Arthur could think was how her eyes weren't as blue, didn't crinkle at the edges like Merlin's.

"Sophia." Arthur nodded in acknowledgment, because even though he wanted to tell her where to get off, in no uncertain terms, Arthur had been raised a gentleman. "How are you?"

"Wonderful." Sophia gave a tinkling laugh, and when she shook her head just slightly, Arthur noticed she was wearing the diamond earrings he had bought for her. "It's so lovely to see you," she continued. "I was only thinking about you this morning." Then she reached out and snagged Arthur's drink, raised it to her lips for a delicate sip, and fixed him with a flirtatious look over the top of the glass.

Before Arthur could reclaim his drink or say anything further, his friends had apparently decided it was time to get involved.

"What brings you round these parts?" Leon asked, his tone even, and a measured stare fixed on her. "I wouldn't have thought this was your kind of place."

Sophia smiled at Leon, but Arthur couldn't miss the way it didn't reach her eyes – she'd never liked his friends, and the feeling had been decidedly mutual.

"Oh, you know," she replied airily. "I had some errands to run for Daddy."

Arthur seemed to recall he once found Sophia's silvery laugh appealing. Now, it ranked up there with _nails on a blackboard_ as sounds he could live the rest of his life without hearing again.

"What a lucky coincidence." Elena's stare and tone were much more pointed than Leon's. She hadn't liked Sophia from the very start – sussing out her shallow, gold-digging ways long before the blinkers had come off Arthur's eyes.

"Ah, Elena, I didn't spot you there." The fake smile came back with force. "But then you always did blend in so well with the boys, didn't you?"

Arthur prayed silently that his friend's temper would hold out; they'd had enough scenes for one day.

"Um, Soph, not that it isn't lovely to catch up with you," Arthur pulled an insincere smile of his own, "but that seat's actually taken, so you can't stay there."

There was a moment's pause while Sophia processed his words, and it seemed to Arthur that his friends held their collective breath too. He could almost see the cogs turning in her brain, and while Arthur had never been very quick to figure out her intentions, Sophia had been equally bad at hiding them.

"Oh, Arthur, you only had to ask, silly boy."

And before Arthur had time to process the implications, or the fact that she had honest-to-goodness simpered, he found himself with a lapful of slightly-unhinged ex-girlfriend.

He gaped. Because really, words failed him. They'd been broken up for over nine months. Since that last blazing row when he'd packed a bag and fled to Morgana's. Yet somehow, despite the lack of any initiated contact on his part since, she still seemed to think...well, Arthur wasn't entirely sure what she thought, but the way she was squirming in his lap, teasing smile fixed on her lips, spoke volumes.

A quick glance around the table for help proved fruitless. Without exception, all his friends wore identical expressions – torn somewhere between the urge to laugh, and utter disbelief at the car crash of events unfolding in front of them.

"There." Sophia fluttered her lashes. Arthur felt nothing. "That's better, isn't it?"

She shifted again and moved precariously far back on Arthur's thighs. He instinctively placed a hand on the small of her back to prevent her falling, and then cursed his father mentally for the bloody manners he'd drummed into his son. The very manners that prevented Arthur from dumping her sorry arse onto the floor. And possibly emptying his pint on top for good measure.

"Oops." Sophia giggled girlishly and cupped one hand tightly around the back of Arthur's neck. He winced as her lengthy nails grazed the soft skin. "My hero."

Arthur flushed slightly. The whole scene was making him incredibly uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than for it to be over, and Sophia with it, long before Merlin returned. There'd already been enough screw ups in their tentative relationship already – Arthur wasn't sure it would withstand another.

"I really don't think—" he began, only to be cut off.

"I knew you'd come to your senses eventually."

Before Arthur could disabuse her of this notion, or point out that no amount of wriggling was going to get him hard, Sophia's other hand had come to rest on his jaw and she lowered her head until her lips, slick with vivid lipstick, were pressed firmly against his.

It was like slow motion. His life passing before him. Logically Arthur knew it was only a few seconds before the shock passed and he was able to push Sophia away, spluttering his outrage. But it felt like a lifetime.

"What the hell?" he demanded, hands tightly clamped on her shoulders to prevent a repeat performance.

She looked confused. Her next words confirmed that. "I don't understand."

"We broke up." Arthur spoke through gritted teeth – he was fighting a losing battle with his temper. "Nine months ago. What's not to understand?"

Sophia pouted and Arthur couldn't help remember when that look alone was enough for him to do her bidding. "But that was a mistake," she said, just the slightest hint of uncertainty in her voice. "You didn't really mean it. You just needed some time."

Arthur let out a bitter sounding laugh and raked one hand through his hair. "I needed time away from you. And now I need some more." He struggled to get off his chair, forcing Sophia to stand, or end up in a heap at his feet.

The anger Sophia had never been very good at hiding bubbled to the surface. "Bastard," she hissed, and then emphasised her point with a slap. "You don't deserve me."

Arthur gave a faint smile and tried to ignore the dull ache in his cheek. "You're right," he agreed. "I don't."

It took a moment for Sophia to process his meaning, but it was obvious when the penny dropped, because she raised her hand again.

"I think it's time you left." Leon was on his feet, face still calm, while he held Sophia's wrist loosely in his fingers. "You're causing a scene."

Arthur didn't expect it to have any impact. During their brief, turbulent relationship, he'd had to scream until he was blue in the face before Sophia could be persuaded to back off. So the chances of Leon's calm, reasonable demeanour making even the slightest of impact were non-existent.

Only, as it turned out, Arthur was wrong. Sophia stared at Leon for what seemed the longest time, her eyes still flashing anger, and nostrils flaring slightly with each shallow breath. After a few moments of incredibly awkward silence, she wrenched her hand free from Leon's grasp.

"Don't touch me." Her tone was low, but the malice behind it unmissable.

She turned slightly to face Arthur again. "I hate you." And before Arthur could reply, she spun round to face the table. "All of you," she continued. "With your sad, pathetic, co-dependent little clique. It's no wonder you're all single."

"Actually..."

Arthur winced. He knew exactly what Elena was going to say even before the words left her mouth.

"Arthur isn't single at the moment. His boyfriend just nipped to the loo – if you want to wait around to meet him."

Arthur wanted to throttle his friend. Or at least he did, until he saw the expression on Sophia's face. There was a mixture of horror and revulsion there that told him it would be a long time before she _coincidentally_ turned up anywhere he was again.

With one last disdainful look, and a toss of her blonde curls, Sophia left without so much as another word.

Arthur remained standing until he saw the door slam behind her, and then sank gratefully into his seat. "I need a drink."

Elena quirked a smile. "Was it something I said, d'you think?" She gave a nod towards the closed door.

"God, I hope so." Arthur grasped his ping and drained the remainder of it in one go. He set the glass back on the table with a sigh of satisfaction. "Thank fuck she went before Merlin came back."

Percy grinned. "Yeah, that had the potential to be awkward."

There were murmurs of agreement around the table, before Lance spoke quietly. "He's been gone a while, don't you think?"

"Huh?" Arthur blinked slowly.

"Merlin," Lance clarified. "Seems like he's been gone ages."

Arthur shifted on his seat and glanced over towards the toilets. There was no sign. "It's not like he's going to get lost on the way back, though, is it."

Lance shrugged. "I'm just saying."

"I can hardly go and check on him, can I?" Arthur toyed with his empty glass and looked round for agreement.

Leon nodded. "Maybe he had a curry last night or something."

"Lovely." Elena's tone was heavy with sarcasm. "Thanks for that visual."

"That or he's buying a little something from the machine for later." Percy added a slight leer just to make sure everyone understood his meaning.

However, five minutes later when Lance had fetched a new round, and Merlin's first pint still sat untouched, Arthur turned to his friends.

"One of you just go and check, please?"

Percy choked on his beer. "You're serious?"

"Well, I can't very well go, can I?" Arthur's tone implied this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Mate, I'm not searching the men's bogs for your boyfriend." Percy raised his pint to his lips before adding, "Get Lance to do it."

"Hey! Why me?" Lance turned in his chair to glare at Percy.

"You're the one who brought it up in the first place. 'S'only fair you're the one to do it."

"Don't even look at me," Leon added.

"Thanks." Arthur scowled slightly. "Good to know I can rely on my friends for help in times of crisis."

"Crisis?" Elena's expression was incredulous; she placed her drink on the table with a loud bang. "Oh, for God's sake, I'll go, you bunch of wusses." She was out of her chair and on her feet before the rest of them realised what was happening.

Arthur's hand shot out and grabbed her sleeve. "You can't go in there," he said in scandalised tones.

"D'you want to know or not?" Elena pulled her hand free and placed it on her hip. "Because it's the only way you're finding out."

Arthur gazed back at her for a moment before gesturing slightly with his hand. "Fine. Go."

**********

Merlin turned the key slowly in the lock. It was unlikely that Gwen would hear him, given the cackling laugher he could already hear coming from her and Morgana, but he didn't want to risk it. Gwen's sympathy would be bad enough. But facing Morgana right now...Merlin couldn't think of anything he'd rather do less. Not that he thought she'd actually say _I told you so_ but Merlin would know she was thinking it all the same, and it was too soon for that.

He eased off his shoes quietly, tip-toed down the hallway, and had almost made it to his room undetected when the sudden vibrating of his phone caused his heart to stutter. Merlin had switched it to silent as soon as he left the pub, but this was at least the fifth time it had gone off in the last half an hour. He could have switched it off, and given Arthur's tendency towards persistence, that was clearly the best idea. But apparently Merlin had recently developed something of a masochistic streak where Arthur was concerned, so he left it on, and felt each successive vibration like a jolt to his already severely wounded pride.

Merlin's bedroom was just as he had left it earlier that day – a bombsite. Clothes were strewn over every available surface, a mocking reminder of his eagerness to impress. He couldn't stifle the bitter laugh that escaped his mouth – no outfit on earth would have made him _who_ Arthur wanted that day. If only he'd realised sooner. A quick shake of the duvet cleared a space, and Merlin flopped back onto the bed's surface, wincing only slightly as the springs dug into his back. He reached out blindly to the side and grabbed a pillow and pulled it down over his face. As the darkness enveloped him, Merlin screwed his eyes tight shut – he wouldn't cry. Not this time. Not over this.

He thumped his fists into the mattress at his side and cursed his own stupidity. How many times did this have to happen before he learnt? Before he stopped trusting the wrong sort of people far too easily.

"Merlin?"

Merlin pressed the pillow harder over his face and stifled a groan. _Not now_ , he prayed silently.

Gwen clearly didn't get his subliminal request. "Merlin, are you in there?"

There was a gentle tap on his door which Merlin ignored. It was a futile gesture; he knew that, because Gwen was never put off so easily. So as the click of the handle turning sounded, he wasn't surprised at all.

Merlin lay still, kept his breaths shallow and even. But the shifting of the mattress told of yet another unsuccessful avoidance tactic.

"I know you're not asleep." Gwen poked him firmly in the ribs.

Merlin huffed and gave it up as a bad job. "Even if I was, I wouldn't be now, would I?" He tossed the pillow to one side and fixed his friend with a glare. "That hurt." He rubbed at the tender spot on his side.

"Don't be such a girl." Gwen gave a shake of her head. But if Merlin thought she was going to be distracted with his complaints, he was very much mistaken. "Why are you here?" she asked bluntly.

"I live here?"

That got Merlin another poke for his troubles; he didn't even bother complaining about that one. "Don't be a smart arse. You know what I mean."

"You do know how long a football match lasts, don't you?"

"I do, thank you," Gwen replied, with a look that clearly said _stop taking the piss_. "I also know how long post-match pub sessions usually last, so I'll ask you again, why are you here?"

Merlin shifted awkwardly on the bed and wished heartily that he'd kept hold of the pillow. "I wanted to come home," he said lamely.

"Merlin." The warning note in Gwen's tone was clear.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said stubbornly. "Especially not while Morgana's in the next room.

Gwen's eyes widened slightly. "Did Arthur...did something happen?"

"Can you just leave it, please?" Merlin had managed thus far to keep his emotions in check, but with Gwen digging at the wound insistently, he knew it was only a matter of time before they broke.

Gwen just looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and then got to her feet. "I'll tell you what, I'm going to send Morgana home and then I'm going to come back in here, possibly with ice cream, and _you_ are going to tell me what's going on. Because if I have to spend the next couple of weeks listening to Radiohead on repeat, then I at least want to know who to blame."

Merlin sat up with speed. He reached out for Gwen's arm, fingers curled tightly around her wrist. "I don't want...not Morgana." He shook his head hoping to sort the words out in his brain so they made a little more sense.

Fortunately Gwen was used to his nonsensical rambling. "I won't. I'll just make up some excuse and send her on her way. Something tells me she'll be one of the last people you need to see right now."

Merlin just nodded and let go of her arm. "Thank you." It came out as barely louder than a whisper, but Gwen just smiled.

"What are best friends for?"

Merlin flopped back on the bed and tried his hardest to block out the mumbled conversation drifting through his open door. It was a little hard to do as Morgana's tones became strident.

"What the hell did he do now?"

Merlin didn't wait to hear Gwen's reply. Instead, he sought refuge under the pillow again and just prayed for it all to go away.

It did, for a short while. Morgana clearly took a little longer to shake off than Gwen anticipated, and Merlin used the time to sort through the emotions in his head. He knew Gwen. She was a great believer in _talking things out_ , and Merlin's preferred option of _burying his head in the sand_ stood no chance in the face of such opposition. She meant well, Merlin knew that. But sometimes he just wanted to lick his wounds in private. Like right now.

"She's gone." The mattress shifted again as Gwen resumed her perch.

Merlin peered out from under the pillow, not willing to relinquish it yet. He eyed her empty hands. "You promised ice cream."

Gwen smiled. "We don't have any; I checked. And I assumed lemon sorbet wouldn't be a welcome substitute."

Merlin wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Ugh. Hardly."

"Well, there you are then." Gwen sat back further on the bed and pulled her feet up onto the duvet. "Now out with it," she said firmly. "What did Arthur do this time?"

Realising further attempts at resistance would be futile, Merlin tossed the pillow onto the floor and struggled into an upright position. He shuffled back until he was propped against the headboard, and pulled his knees up to his chest. "What makes you think he did anything? Maybe I just wanted to come home."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Please, do I look stupid?"

Wisely judging this to be rhetorical, Merlin remained silent.

"You were grinning like a kid on Christmas morning earlier. A few hours in Arthur's company and you're doing your best impression of a wounded puppy. I _don't_ need a PhD to do that sort of maths."

Merlin opened his mouth to refute this, but the words never managed to come out. Instead he began paying close attention to his fingers as they twisted at the hem of his t-shirt.

"Stop that," Gwen chided, and slapped his hands away. "You're avoiding the question."

Merlin gave her a look that clearly said _duh_ , because of course he was avoiding the question. Just the barest thought of what had happened earlier caused his chest to clench painfully, so the prospect of actually have to talk about it, of having Gwen pity him yet again for his rather pathetic love life, was giving Merlin the strong urge to flee.

But it was pointless, he knew that. Gwen had the tenacity of a bulldog, and now she had scented a story, he wasn't leaving the room until she knew every last detail.

"Just think of it as pulling off a plaster." Gwen reached out and patted Merlin's knee. "The quicker you do it, the less painful it'll be."

Merlin didn't even attempt to stifle his snort in response; that was the sort of bullshit mother's tried to feed their kids, and he _wasn't_ buying it. But, he did realise that the quicker he told her, the quicker she'd leave, and the sooner he could return to nursing his wounds.

"He kissed someone else." Merlin blurted the words out, and judging from the look on her face, whatever Gwen had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that.

"He what? You're kidding?"

Merlin shook his head slowly. "I wish," he muttered.

"He literally just kissed someone else right in front of you?"

"Pretty much," Merlin muttered, his attention once again fixed on his hands rather than on his best friend.

"Pretty much," Gwen repeated slowly. "Merlin, either he did or he didn't. Which is it?"

Merlin's head snapped up, a glare on his face. "I'm not making this up."

Gwen raised a placating hand. "And I'm not saying you are. But I'm just trying to understand what happened."

"There was this girl. This blond, _pretty_ girl." The words left a nasty taste in Merlin's mouth and he scowled slightly. "And she was sitting on his lap, and they were kissing."

"I can't believe he'd do that." Gwen had one hand raised to her mouth in shock.

"Really? After everything Morgana said about him, it makes perfect sense to me. The only thing that's confusing is what the hell I was thinking of trusting him again."

"He just seemed so genuine," Gwen said softly. "I thought he really liked you." She reached out and took hold of Merlin's hand with both of hers. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

"It's not your fault, is it? Morgana warned me and I should have listened."

"It was me that gave him your number, though," Gwen admitted guiltily. "That day he came into the shop. After Morgana stormed out, we sat and talked...I thought he was a good guy."

"Well, that makes two of us, doesn't it," Merlin said bitterly. "And we were both wrong."

"Where were his friends, though? Surely one of them said something?"

Merlin wanted to tell Gwen to stop clutching at straws. That it had happened and no amount of analysing would change that. But he didn't. "I don't know," he admitted with a shrug. "They were sat round the table too, but I didn't hear anything."

"This doesn't make sense." Gwen shook her head slowly.

"You're telling me?" Merlin raked one hand distractedly through his hair. "One minute he's holding my bloody hand, and the next minute he's got his tongue down some tart's throat."

"Oh, Merlin." And there was the pitying expression he'd been dreading. "What did you do? I mean, you at least dumped your drink over his head, right?"

Merlin felt a brief pang of regret he hadn't considered that option. "Sadly no," he admitted with a small smile. "I just...I had to get out of there, you know? I'd only been gone a couple of minutes; what sort of person can't keep it under control for that long?"

"Gone where?" Gwen frowned slightly. "I thought you said you were there when it happened?"

"I was." Merlin rubbed at his face tiredly; he just wanted to _sleep_. "I mean, I _was_ there and then I went to the toilet, and when I came back they were just..." he made a vague gesture with his hand, because he wasn't sure he could handle saying the words for a second time.

Gwen was silent for a moment and Merlin watched her, hopeful that the conversation was almost over. It wasn't.

"Merlin," she squeezed his hand gently between her own, "I don't want you to get mad when I say this—"

"Then don't." Merlin tried to pull his hand away, but Gwen was having none of it.

"Just listen a minute," she insisted. "I'm not saying you didn't see what you saw, but maybe there's more to it than that. I mean, doesn't the whole thing strike you as really odd?"

Before Merlin could reply, an insistent buzzing noise sounded. Gwen reached out and snagged his phone off the duvet.

"It's Arthur." She held the phone out. "I think you should speak to him."

Merlin shook his head. "Leave it," he bit out.

"But, Merlin—"

"I don't want to talk to him." Merlin snatched the phone from Gwen's hand and chucked it heedlessly across the room.

Gwen gazed at it for a moment, as if she couldn't quite believe he'd done it. Then she turned to face Merlin again. "Look, if nothing else, you at least deserve an explanation for his behaviour. And you never know, there really may be a perfectly good one." Merlin snorted derisively, but Gwen ploughed on. "If you don't talk to him, you'll never know. And isn't that worse?"

"No." Merlin shook his head forcefully. "I'm not listening to any more of his crap. If I'd just listened to Morgana in the first place, none of this would have happened." He gave a rough, raw-sounding laugh. "I suppose I should be grateful to him for showing his true colours this early. At least I found out before I moved in this time."

**********

If Arthur was of a mind to be completely honest, the summons to his father's office, when it finally came, really wasn't that much of a surprise. If anything, the surprise was that it had taken so long to materialise.

Uther was not one to tolerate failure in any form, no matter from which direction it came, and Arthur was well aware that his performance over the last three weeks had been wanting in many areas.

The waiting was almost as bad as the confrontation that Arthur knew was imminent. Uther liked to ensure he had the psychological advantage beforehand, so he always kept people waiting. Ten minutes at a minimum, but when he'd first started, Arthur had once sat in the outer office for a whole afternoon, only to be told at five pm that his father was too busy to see him and could he please come back at nine sharp the next day. Mind games were Uther Pendragon's speciality.

Then there were the incredibly uncomfortable chairs, selected, Arthur knew, for that very reason. And to top it all off, the waiting was done under the stern, disapproving eye of Uther's P.A. who had a special way of making Arthur feel like an errant schoolboy rather than the Mergers & Acquisitions Manager his office door proclaimed him to be.

And what made it even worse this time was that Arthur knew he was in the wrong. His performance had slipped so drastically in the last three weeks that even Morgana had begun to express concern.

The whole situation with Merlin had thrown Arthur for a complete loop. Not even his break up with Freya had affected him this badly, and Arthur had been on the verge of _proposing_ to her. It seemed trite to say that _there was something about Merlin_ , but there really was. He'd managed to worm his way past Arthur's defences in such a short space of time and the resulting break had left Arthur feeling raw and exposed.

Of course, it didn't help that Arthur was now royally pissed off with Merlin. That once again he'd jumped to conclusions and walked away without giving Arthur the chance to explain.

It wasn't like he'd just given up either, or not at first anyway. But all of Arthur's calls to Merlin had gone straight to voicemail – even when he'd tried ringing from another phone in the hopes of catching Merlin unawares. He'd been round to Merlin's flat, hammered on the door till one neighbour had threatened him with the police, and a sheepish Gwen had finally emerged and ever so politely asked him to go.

He'd thought about going to the coffee shop, about cornering Merlin there. But by this point Arthur's anger had flourished and he realised that forcing a confrontation in a public place was probably a very bad idea indeed.

All Arthur had by way of explanation for Merlin's behaviour was that one measly text message. A text he'd received shortly after Elena emerged from the men's toilets to report Merlin's absence. A cold, emotionless text, that said Merlin had changed his mind and didn't want to see Arthur again, and he would appreciate it if Arthur didn't try to contact him.

Arthur huffed at the memory, causing a disapproving look from his father's secretary. _But really, had Merlin actually though that was the end of it?_

"Mr Pendragon will see you now."

Arthur felt his stomach churn uneasily and he had a sudden flashback to his numerous visits to the Head's office during his schooldays. He got to his feet and tried discreetly to wipe clammy hands on his trousers.

The heavy wooden doors of his father's office loomed imposingly ahead. Arthur took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and entered with a confidence he most definitely didn't feel.

"Sit." Uther didn't even look up from the desk as he issued the command.

Arthur complied instantly, grateful that these seats were somewhat more welcoming. He watched impatiently while his father continued signing numerous documents – he'd learnt over the years that the amount of time you were made to wait was usually in direct proportion to just how deeply in the shit you were.

"I've been receiving rather alarming reports, Arthur," Uther said finally. He placed the pen firmly on his desk and turned an intense gaze on his son.

Arthur nodded and struggled to keep his expression neutral; he knew better than to display any weakness this early in the meeting.

Uther folded his hands on the desk in front of him and leant forward. "Your attendance, time keeping, work rate, everything appears to be slipping. And then I hear from Geoffrey that you failed to attend a meeting about the Bridges merger."

Arthur nodded again. There was little he could say in his defence, considering it was all true.

"Damn it, Arthur." Uther banged his hand loudly on the desk. "You know how important that deal is, how much money it's worth to the _Albion Group_ ; what the hell were you thinking?"

Arthur shrugged instinctively. He knew it was a bad idea; there was nothing more likely to infuriate his father, but it was the best he could do. Because really, he had no idea _what_ he'd been thinking just lately. His mind, usually so ordered and controlled, was now a mess of chaotic emotions, and there was just no way he could express that in any way that would satisfy his father.

Uther sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You need to give me something to work with here. If you were any other employee..." He paused and sat back in his chair. "This isn't like you, Arthur. Clearly something is wrong, but I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Arthur couldn't help the soft, derisive snort that escaped him here; it was a bit late for Uther to be playing the caring father.

"You're not ill are you?"

A quick shake of his head, and Arthur couldn't miss the way the tension seemed to seep from his father's body. Nor could he escape the slight pang of guilt he felt at so flippantly dismissing his father's concern.

"Then what?" Uther's gaze practically pinned Arthur to his seat. "You obviously have something on your mind. Is this about a girl? Is that what it is? Because you can't—"

"It's a boy, actually." Arthur didn't usually interrupt his father; he knew better than to do that. But he wasn't about to sit there and endure a lecture on letting his personal life override his work responsibilities.

Uther's lips thinned into a tight, straight line, and he remained silent.

Arthur couldn't help the brief moment of satisfaction he felt at this reaction. Uther was well aware of his son's sexuality – Arthur had never troubled to hide who he was – but he had, over the years, preferred to ignore it. Which given that all Arthur's relationships had been with women, had been easy for him to do. But the fact that his father dismissed a large part of whom he was rankled with Arthur. As did the suspicion that his father was still convinced it was _just a phase_ , another rebellion against the establishment, something Arthur would grow out of eventually.

Uther got to his feet and began to pace the office. He did so in silence and Arthur just sat back and watched, expectantly. Finally he came to a halt in front of the large window, his hands resting on the sturdy bookshelf beneath.

"I've always tried to do what I thought was best for you, and Morgana." Uther's gaze remained fixed on the outside world as he spoke. "But sometimes I wonder if I made things too easy for you."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest at his, because really, growing up under the iron rule of Uther Pendragon could hardly be considered _easy_. Uther silenced him with a sharp gesture of his hand.

"You've had everything you ever wanted handed to you on a plate. Your education, your home, that fancy car, even your job here. You've never had to really _work_ for anything. Not like I did."

Arthur struggled to resist rolling his eyes. He knew he was about to get chapter and verse about how his father had struggled his way to the top, how he'd started with nothing and made millions along the way. And it was true, Arthur knew that. His father really was a self-made man. But it was a tale that Arthur had had drummed into him repeatedly over the years, so often that he could recite it from memory, and in his present state of mind he had no desire to hear it again.

"Yes, yes, I know you don't want to hear it again." Uther turned from the window and stared at Arthur. "But I think you need to. You don't appreciate what you've got, Arthur, and it's about time you started."

Arthur folded his arms defensively across his chest. It was bad enough that he knew other employees had muttered about nepotism being the route of his success, but to hear his own father confirm it. "I earnt that job."

"Now, maybe," Uther agreed. "But how many graduates walk out of university and straight into a job like that?" Uther shook his head sadly. "You've had it too easy, and I blame myself for that. But I intend to rectify it."

Arthur felt a surge of panic twist through him. "You're not sacking me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Uther snapped. "You're my son."

It wasn't exactly the ringing endorsement that Arthur had hoped for, but it was something. "So what, then?"

"I think it's time you had a little experience of the real world, of what it's like to _really_ work for a living."

Ordinarily Arthur would have argued the point that he bloody well did work for a living, but given current circumstances, he felt he was on rather shaky ground with that point. Plus, he was far too concerned about the implications of his father's words. "And how do you propose—"

"I have made arrangements for you to undertake _work experience_ in one of our smaller companies. Look at it as a _back to the floor_ exercise, if you will."

The surge of panic returned. As the person in charge of acquiring most of these companies, Arthur knew only too well the array of possibilities that now faced him – none of which were overly appealing. "Father, whilst I appreciate the lesson you're attempting to impart, I hardly see—"

"It's not up for discussion, Arthur." Uther's tone more than matched his words, and Arthur's heart sank.

"Where?" he asked, and dreaded the answer. Because it would be just like his father to have him working night shifts packing biscuits, all in the name of _education_.

Uther smiled slightly. "Don't look so worried; it's nothing too terrible. In fact, it was actually Morgana who came up with the perfect suggestion."

**********

Merlin turned his collar up against the cold as he emerged from the Tube station. It was only a short distance from there to work, but it seemed Mother Nature hadn't yet got the message it was spring.

It wasn't Merlin's usual shift. Wednesday afternoons usually found him in the library slogging away thanklessly at his thesis. But his brain wasn't really cooperating at the moment, so instead of abstract socialist concepts, all Merlin could think of was Arthur. This was why he was currently volunteering to cover any shift available. It made him incredibly popular with the younger staff, eager for weekends off, but only made Gwen give him that sad _I'm so disappointed in you_ look all the more. Merlin knew Gwen knew what he was doing, but she had always made such a point of drawing a distinct line between friend and boss, that she was unable to call him on it.

The slightly dull, repetitive work was perfect for keeping Merlin's mind occupied. And the steady stream of thirsty customers meant he had little time to dwell on thoughts of shiny blond hair or well-cut suits.

The first heavy drops of rain fell just as Merlin reached the door of _The Magic Bean_. He pushed it open and stepped inside, thankful that at least today the gods were smiling down on him.

Holding his bag close to his side – only yesterday he had clouted a small child's head with it – Merlin crossed the floor. There was no sign of Gwen, but Stacey, their usual weekend girl was there, and she seemed to be training someone new.

Merlin frowned a little at that. More staff meant less spare shifts for him. Also there was the fact that Gwen hadn't mentioned anything about it – although they tried to keep work and home separate, there was no reason for her not to have mentioned this.

Only, as it turned out, there was a bloody good reason for it.

Merlin drew level with the counter just as the new boy turned around, and he almost choked on his own tongue. There, behind the counter, manhandling _Merlin's_ espresso machine, was Arthur.

Merlin's jaw dropped. Literally. He stood and stared, open-mouthed, until Arthur began to fidget under the scrutiny.

"Merlin." Arthur nodded slightly and attempted a smile.

The sound of his own name woke Merlin from his trance. "What are _you_ doing here?" Merlin was never at his best when surprised, and the fact that Arthur looked so damn good in what was, at best, a plain uniform, wasn't exactly helping.

"I work here," Arthur replied, thought it seemed to come out as more of a question.

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that," he snapped, before pushing his way behind the counter and striding purposefully towards Gwen's office.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Merlin slammed the door shut behind him; the resulting noise echoed in the awkward silence that followed.

"I had no choice." The apology was unsaid, but clear in Gwen's tone nonetheless.

Merlin flung himself down into one of the empty chairs. "Why?" he demanded petulantly.

"It turns out that Arthur's father owns this chain of coffee shops. Or rather, his company does. It was his decision apparently, and it was made very clear I was in no position to refuse."

Merlin slumped down in his seat, arms folded across his chest. There was no way this could be happening to him. "But why here, though? Surely Daddy Dearest owns dozens of other companies. It feels like he's stalking me or something."

Gwen smiled at this. "I hate to disappoint you, but according to Arthur, it was Morgana's idea."

"Morgana? But she didn't want Arthur anywhere near me. Why would she—"

"You've met Morgana. Have you ever been able to figure out why she does anything?"

"I suppose not," Merlin allowed. "But it still doesn't make sense."

Gwen shrugged. "Who said it had to? Look, Merlin," she leant forward, expression serious. "Arthur's going to be here for a month at least. You're going to have to be civil, if nothing else."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest. The bare idea of talking to Arthur made his stomach rebel.

"I mean it," Gwen continued, a little more forcefully this time. "I know it won't be easy for you, but you'll have to leave your personal feelings at the door. We're a team, Merlin, and it isn't fair on the rest of us if you two are constantly sniping."

**********

 

"He's back again." Arthur's narrowed as he gazed across the coffee shop.

Merlin turned from his spot at the sink. "Huh?"

Arthur resisted the temptation to roll his eyes; he and Merlin had achieved a level of enforced civility, but he didn't think they were at that level yet. "That bloke. The dodgy-looking one that's been hanging around lately." Arthur nodded in the direction of the main door.

Merlin followed the line of his nod. "Oh, _him_ "

Arthur watched as the man scanned the room and didn't miss the way his eyes lit up when they came to rest on Merlin. It had been the same every day for the last week. He came in, hovered around the counter until he could be certain of Merlin serving him, and then retreated to a table with a good view of the counter, where he proceeded to watch Merlin's every movement.

At first Arthur thought he was imagining things, that maybe he was allowing his own feelings for Merlin to cloud his judgement. But the one day the man came in and Merlin wasn't there, he took one look around and just left. And as if that wasn't confirmation enough, when Arthur had broached the subject warily with Gwen, he found her in complete agreement. In fact, it turned out that the only thing keeping her from barring the stranger was Merlin himself.

"Would you mind serving him?" Merlin's gazed flickered from Arthur's face out into the cafe, then back again. "I need to get this finished." He indicated the dismantled coffee machine in the sink.

"Sure." Arthur nodded as nonchalantly as possible. He was as busy as Merlin – the display cabinet didn't restock itself – but Arthur also knew how much it must have cost Merlin to ask him that, given how things were between them, so it spoke volumes about just how much he did not want to deal with that particular customer. He wiped his hands down his apron. "I'll handle it."

Merlin gave a tight smile and nodded. "Thanks." But Arthur didn't miss the wary gaze he directed at the approaching customer.

"I can handle that," Arthur said, nodding in the direction of the sink. "It's not busy and you're shift's practically over; why don't you head out the back?"

Merlin watched him silently for a moment, and Arthur held his breath and waited for the rejection. It never came.

"Thank you." And from the expression in Merlin's eyes, he really did mean it.

Arthur watched for a moment as Merlin turned on his heel and walked away. He wished, more than anything, that he knew what to say to make things right between them. He still thought of Merlin, dreamt of him, none of that had changed. Except the only difference now was that he couldn't touch, and though he remembered the feel of Merlin's lips against his own, that's all it was – a memory.

Arthur shook his head in an effort to clear such thoughts. They weren't exactly helpful, especially not now. He turned back to the counter and was about to approach the till when Gwen appeared at his side.

"I'll get this, Arthur," she said softly.

Arthur didn't miss the way her eyes darted towards the queue; she obviously knew exactly who was out there. "I don't mind," he said, and wasn't that the truth. Arthur was rather relishing a conversation with this stranger. Although, it occurred to him this was the exact reason Gwen wanted to avoid it.

"It's fine," Gwen insisted. "Your shift's almost over anyway." She glanced quickly at her watch. "If you really want to help though, you could give Merlin a lift home.

Arthur wisely didn't point out he had well over an hour left before he finished. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I'm not exactly Merlin's favourite person at the moment, so he's hardly likely to want to be trapped in a car with me."

"Then you'll have to use your charm on him, won't you." Gwen smiled and used a little charm of her own. "It wouldn't be the first time, and we both know how successful _that_ was."

Arthur was fairly sure that if he could see his reflection at that moment, there would be a decidedly pink flush to his cheeks. "Fine, but don't blame me if it ends in disaster."

"Please, Arthur." Gwen was at her most persuasive. "I just don't want him walking home alone."

"Don't worry." Arthur remembered their earlier conversation about Merlin's _mysterious_ stalker, and understood Gwen's concern. "I'll make sure he gets home in one piece."

"Thank you." Gwen treated him to one of her patented _sunshiney_ smiles, and for a moment Arthur forgot about what lay ahead. "Go on then." Gwen made a brief shooing motion with her hands before turning towards the till and the source of all their concerns.

Arthur watched for a moment – just to make sure Gwen was all right, and definitely not because he was stalling or anything. Then finally he screwed up his reserves of courage and went in search of Merlin.

It wasn't that he minded driving Merlin home; it would be the first time the two of them had been alone together, without the interruptions of work or well meaning friends, for quite some time. Arthur was only too pleased at the prospect – it was just unlikely that Merlin would feel the same.

The staff room door loomed up ahead far too quickly – Arthur still hadn't worked out what he wanted to say, both to get Merlin into his car _and_ once he was there. But if there was one thing a lifetime as Uther Pendragon's son had taught him, it was to seize every opportunity as if it were your last.

Arthur pushed the door open the door before he had time to change his mind, and then leapt back in surprise, one hand pressed to his chest.

Merlin stood on the other side of the door, arm outstretched, clearly about to exit. The smallest of smiles graced his face. "Did you just squeal?"

"No," Arthur replied instantly. "Of course not."

Merlin's lips quirked in obvious amusement. "Are you sure? Because I'm sure I heard a squeal of some sort." He paused for a moment, appearing thoughtful. "Maybe it was Gwen?"

Arthur huffed and folded his arms defensively. "It was a manly shriek," he said petulantly. "You startled me." Merlin outright laughed this time, and Arthur felt something loosen in his chest.

"Did you want me for something?" Merlin asked finally, once he had his giggles under control.

Arthur paused a moment before answering, because there were just so many tempting responses for that, but few of them that would result in anything but Merlin storming away, or possibly punching him first.

"I just wondered if you wanted a lift home," was what he settled on saying.

Merlin's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You don't finish for another hour."

Arthur shrugged. "Gwen's letting me get off early."

Merlin glanced past Arthur, out of the door and towards the shop itself. "Was this your idea?"

Arthur toyed for a moment with lying but then thought better of it. "No," he admitted. "But I really don't mind."

"Arthur, it's practically the other direction from where you live."

"It's not that far out of my way, and I think Gwen would be happier knowing you got home safely."

"I'm not a child." Merlin's expression could be described as petulant at best. "I'm quite capable of getting home by myself."

"She's just worried, Merlin." Arthur tried his hardest to ignore the pout on Merlin's face, and the memories of biting that fleshy bottom lip. "I know you'd rather not spend more time with me than necessary, but maybe we should appease her just this once."

"Fine." Merlin shifted his bag firmly onto his shoulder. "But I think you're both overreacting about this."

Arthur didn't respond, he just stepped back out of the doorway and made a sweeping motion with his hand. "Your chariot awaits."

Merlin grimaced in reply, but strode from the room nonetheless."

**********

 

"You don’t really think that bloke’s a stalker do you?" Merlin kept his gaze firmly fixed out of the window of Arthur's car. It was much easier to think that way than it had been when confronted with the way Arthur's fingers flexed as they gripped the steering wheel.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted after a pause. "But there's definitely something odd about him, you have to admit that."

Merlin shrugged, which was pointless when Arthur's eyes were trained on the road ahead. "It's London," he said, hoping to sound more flippant than he felt. "Everyone's a little weird, aren't they?"

"Speak for yourself."

Merlin chanced a glance sideways and lost himself for a moment in the way Arthur's lips curved gently. "Gwen has a tendency to overreact," he said, then carefully averted his gaze.

"She cares about you, Merlin. That's not such a bad thing, is it?"

The car slowed down to a halt at a red light, and Merlin suddenly became very interested in the people waiting at the bus stop opposite. "I know. I'm just sorry she roped you into it."

The lights changed and Arthur pulled away, a little more sharply than was necessary. "I said I didn't mind." He fell silent for a moment before taking an audible deep breath. "Look, I know you probably don't believe it, or want to hear it, but I care about you, too."

"I don't know why you insist on driving this thing to work." Merlin's heart was racing faster than he thought was safe. In his experience, Arthur always had a knack for saying just the right thing. The exact sort of thing that would have Merlin falling in a heartbeat and always ended badly. "You'd be quicker on the Tube."

"Merlin." Arthur's tone was low and serious and caused shivers to run down Merlin's spine.

"Don't." Merlin winced at just how croaky his voice sounded. "Please."

"I don't understand why not," Arthur said – clearly he had no intention of letting things go – which terrified and excited Merlin in equal measure. "I explained about Sophia; I thought you understood?"

"I do." Merlin fiddled nervously with the strap of his bag and willed the car to move faster.

"Then why not?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea," Merlin said softly. "We've tried twice and both times it was a disaster."

"But that wasn't—"

Merlin was fairly sure Arthur was about to point out neither of those occasions had been his fault, that Merlin's tendency to overreact first and ask questions later had been the culprit, but he really didn't want to go over that again right now. "Can't we just try being friends?" Merlin asked hopefully.

There was a long silence that followed, and despite looking out of the window, Merlin was only too aware of Arthur's gaze on him.

"Fine." Arthur's reply sounded forced and spoken through gritted teeth, but he said nothing further.

While a part of Merlin felt relieved, there was another part of him that couldn't help be disappointed Arthur hadn't put up more of a fight.

**********

Merlin was having a shitty day. The sort of day where he wished heartily he'd never ventured out from under the duvet

He'd spent the morning teaching a class of Freshers who'd apparently lost their ability to think freely over the weekend. Three hours of spoon feeding them every pertinent fact was enough stretch even Merlin's patience.

And then, as if that hadn't been enough, he'd had to spend the last five hours working side by side with Arthur. This wasn't so bad in itself, now that they'd cleared the air and Arthur appeared to be respecting of his desire to be _just good friends_. But the fact remained that Arthur was an extremely good looking bloke, who had no business looking as good as he did in a Barista's uniform, and at the end of the day Merlin was only human.

The harder Merlin strived to think of Arthur as 'just a friend', the more his brain seemed to conspire against him, so that even the sight of something simple, like Arthur's fingers curled around the handle of the coffee pot, was enough to send a surge of heat through his belly.

Merlin left work with only a hot bath and a leisurely Arthur-fuelled wank on his mind for the evening ahead. Gwen was heading out on a _mysterious_ date, the details of which she refused to divulge, so Merlin would have the flat to himself.

He'd barely made it out of the door of the coffee shop before he was brought to a halt by a hand on his arm. Merlin turned around instantly and found himself face to face with his _supposed_ stalker. Although, Merlin thought, given the current circumstances, he might have to rethink _supposed_ , and replace with _actual_. He shook his arm free and glared as best he could. "Can I help you?"

"It's Merlin, isn't it?" If possible, the man looked even wilder eyed than usual.

"Do I know you?" Merlin figured there was little point in denying his name, not when he spent the best part of his days wearing a badge that declared it so.

The man reached out and gripped Merlin's arm again, fingers digging almost painfully into his flesh. The laugh that followed caused the hairs on the back of Merlin's neck to stand on end, to say nothing of what the sight of the man's yellowed teeth did to his stomach. "I'm your father."

Merlin's inner geek supplied the word _Luke_ to finish that sentence, but it was quickly suppressed by rising anger. "My father's _dead_ " he spat, and attempted to pull his hand from the other man's grasp. It was easier said than done.

"Get your hands off him now!"

Arthur appeared out of nowhere, pulled the stranger off Merlin and had him slammed against the wall in a heartbeat. Never in his entire life had Merlin been so grateful to see him.

Merlin, please, it's true. I swear."

Arthur shook his prey forcefully. "Don't talk to him." Then he turned slightly. "Merlin, call the police. We'll see what they have to say about this."

Merlin hesitated; his gaze flickered to the stranger. "What's my mother's name?" he demanded.

"Hunith. Her name's Hunith, she grew up in Ealdor. She named you after my grandfather. Please, Merlin, just give me a chance to explain."

Merlin took a step forward and placed an arm on Arthur's shoulder. "Maybe I should—"

"Are you crazy?" Arthur's head snapped round to glare at Merlin. "This weirdo's been stalking you for days, and now because he knows a few details about you that _anyone_ with internet access could find out, you're suddenly willing to believe he's a man that's been dead for over twenty years?"

Merlin bristled at Arthur's tone. He knew on some level Arthur had a point. This was crazy. His father was dead – he'd known that all his life. His mother herself had told him, for god's sake. But there was a small part of him, the young boy who'd grown up craving a father's love and attention, that demanded he give this odd-looking man a chance. Because stranger things had happened, and what if this really was his father and Merlin just turned him away?

"You don't understand," he said finally.

"I do." Arthur's reply was soft and clearly only meant for Merlin's ears.

When Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes, he was reminded forcibly that he wasn't the only one who'd grown up without a parent – that there was probably no one who understood his desires as much as Arthur could. "Then you should know why I have to do this."

Arthur turned his attention from Merlin back to the man pinned against the wall, who was watching their interaction silently, with something like hope in his eyes.

"Fine." Arthur gave the stranger one last shake for good measure. "But you talk in there," he nodded back at the coffee shop, "Where I can keep an eye on you."

*

"Good friend you have there."

Merlin set the two coffees down on the table and looked back to where Arthur stood behind the counter, trying and failing to watch them discreetly. It really was rather adorable, and kind of hot – not that Merlin was about to tell him that. "Mmm," he replied noncommittally.

"Strong, too."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Merlin emptied a packet of sugar into his drink and stirred – more out of desire for something to do than anything else. "He can be a little...enthusiastic sometimes."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Merlin's attention snapped up now. "Is that any of your business?" he asked sharply. Merlin was by no means ashamed of his sexuality, but that didn't mean he was about to start discussing his private life with a complete stranger.

The other man held up his hands in a placating fashion. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just...there's so much I don't know about you."

"You don't know _anything_ about me." There was a silence then, broken only by the loud clink of spoon against china as Merlin stirred his coffee vigorously. "So what should I call you then?" he asked suddenly.

"I suppose _Dad_ is out of the question?"

The look Merlin gave in reply was answer enough.

"Fair point. Well, how about Balinor then? That's what everyone else calls me."

Merlin just nodded – the name rang true from the few reluctant conversations his mother had had with him on the subject. "Okay. So just supposing I believe that you are who you say you are, where have you been for the last twenty four years, and why would my mother tell me you were dead?"

Balinor lowered his gaze to the table at Merlin's words, and he too began fiddling with his teaspoon. "Your mum and I were both young. Too young, really. When she told me she was...when she told me about you, I panicked. I'm not proud of what I did."

"You ran away?" Merlin had never heard his own voice sound so disgusted before.

"I ran, yes." Balinor shook his head slowly. "There's no excuse for it; I know that."

"No," Merlin replied harshly. "There isn't." He paused then and took a sip of coffee – he watched his _father_ thoughtfully over the brim of the cup. "So," he continued, placing the cup back on the table. "That was then. It doesn't explain why it's taken you so long to do anything about it."

"I went back. To Ealdor, I mean. It took me about six months to wake up to what I'd done, what I was missing out on, but I did go back. Only your mum wasn't there anymore. Her parents slammed the door in my face and the only other person who ever gave me the time of day in that place was Dr. Gaius, and he'd gone too."

"He took mum in," Merlin said quietly. "Her parents kicked her out as soon as they found out about me and she had nowhere else to go."

"He seemed like a decent bloke."

"He is," Merlin said. "He's the closest thing to a father I have."

Balinor winced noticeably. "I deserve that," he said ruefully. "But I'm glad you had someone, Merlin. Someone who could be the father I wasn't."

Merlin just shrugged. In all honesty he had no idea what to say. All those years he'd longed for a father, and now that he was faced with the potential of one, he was at a loss. Of course, the fact that in discovering a father, he'd also discovered his mother had lied to him his entire life didn't help. "Mum said you were dead," he blurted out.

"You shouldn't be angry with her for that. I'm sure she had her reasons."

Merlin pushed down the feeling of irritation that this remark caused. The presumption of telling him how to feel was a bit much after ten minutes. So instead he focussed on something else. "How did you find me then? If no one in Ealdor helped, and you had no idea where mum went – how did you find me now?"

"Fate, Merlin." Balinor gave a mysterious smile. "It was fate."

"Which means?"

"It means I walked in here one day expecting to get nothing more than a cup of coffee, and came out half an hour later having found a son."

"It was just an accident then? You didn't know I was here?" Merlin raked one hand through his hair and struggled to straighten his thoughts out in his head. "But how could you have known it was me?"

Balinor chuckled. "I'd have known you anywhere. You're the spitting image of my older brother, and as soon as I heard your name I just knew. After that, I just hung around and tried to listen to your conversations – the little bits I heard only helped confirm what I already knew."

"Everyone here thought you were stalking me." Merlin turned his head to glance back at Arthur. Arthur was staring right back at him, a look of concern on his face, so Merlin gave a small, reassuring smile. "So how long are you in town for? Or do you live in London?"

"I live nowhere and everywhere," Balinor replied, an almost far off look in his eyes. "Travelling's in my blood; I come and go as the wind takes me."

"Oh." Merlin tried his hardest not to appear crestfallen. But really, the man just waltzed into his life, turned everything upside down, and then basically announced that he was about to move on already.

"Trust me, though." Balinor reached out and placed a worn hand over Merlin's. "Now that I've found you, I'll always be back."

*********

The next few weeks were something of a whirlwind for Merlin. Between Uni, work, and getting to know his _father_ \-- a term he still couldn't bring himself to say out loud – he barely had time to breathe. Arthur, for all his initial suspicions, had actually been incredibly supportive, taking over extra shifts where possible to allow Merlin as much free time with his father as possible.

They talked endlessly. Once that first, awkward meeting was over, Merlin preferred to leave alone the circumstances of Balinor's relationship with his mother. In fact, he preferred not to think about his mother at all – the anger he felt towards her seemed to grow with every passing day.

Balinor entertained him with stories of his life, the places he'd been, all the interesting people he'd met. So much so, that Merlin's own life suddenly felt very provincial by comparison. But the pride in his father's eyes upon hearing of Merlin's academic career was unmistakeable, and this more than made up for the other areas in which Merlin felt his life was lacking.

It was about a week after they'd first met that Merlin broached the subject of his sexuality. Everything he'd seen of his father told Merlin that Balinor wasn't the sort of man to hold petty prejudices, and he was starting to feel like he was living a lie.

Merlin was right. Balinor hadn't cared. The only change in his behaviour was that he became a little more protective whenever Arthur was around, and Merlin lived in constant horror that at some point his father was going to start questioning Arthur over just what his intentions were.

Gwen found it endlessly amusing, Arthur was more than a little confused, and Merlin just wanted to crawl under a table every time the subject came up.

Other than that, and the issue of his mother which Merlin refused to address at this point, Merlin was content.

This, in itself, should have served as a warning, given the paths his life had previously taken, but Merlin was far too busy to pay attention to such omens. That was why, when it happened, the unexpected hurt so much more.

*

"Rough day?" Gwen looked up from the TV and smiled sympathetically at her flat mate.

Merlin crossed the room, his feet scuffing against the floor, and flopped down beside her on the sofa. "Like you wouldn't believe. It's like every parent of every badly behaved child in London chose today to take them out for bloody coffee. What's wrong with the park, for fuck's sake? It's not like this city doesn't have enough of them."

Gwen reached out and ruffled his hair. "Poor baby. You've not been there till this time though, surely? You shut up almost two hours ago."

The expression of irritation on Merlin's face disappeared swiftly and was replaced by one which was suspiciously blank. "I went to meet my...meet Balinor." He shifted in his seat and turned to face Gwen. "He hasn't rung here, has he?"

"No. Although, Morgana rang for you a bit ago. Be warned, I think she's trying to rope you into some protest or other."

Merlin barely had the energy to smile at that. "Joy," he muttered sarcastically.

"Hang on, though." Gwen reached for the remote and muted the TV. "I thought you said you'd seen your dad tonight. So why would you ask if he'd rung?"

Merlin fixed his gaze firmly on the silent figures moving across the TV screen. "I said I _went_ to see him. That doesn't mean he actually turned up."

"Oh, Merlin." Somehow the sympathy in Gwen's voice grated Merlin's nerves more than a lack of it would have done. "And you waited all that time?"

"Over an hour," Merlin replied, though wild horses wouldn't drag out of him just how humiliated he had felt with every passing minute, and each successive knowing glance from the bar staff. Clearly they thought he'd been stood up – which he had. Only not in the way they imagined, but in a way that was much worse.

"Well, I'm sure there must be a perfectly reasonable reason why." Gwen sounded far more certain than Merlin felt. "He wouldn’t just stay away for no reason."

"No," Merlin replied bitterly. "It's not like he has a track record of abandoning or anything."

"Don't you think you might be overreacting, just a little?" Gwen reached out and took hold of Merlin's hand tentatively. "It's only one evening."

"No, I don't." Merlin pulled his hand away and then felt instantly guilty. It wasn't Gwen he was mad at. Hell, it wasn't even Balinor. He was angry with himself for being so stupid, for trusting his father despite all the reasons not to, reasons that even Balinor himself had given. It wasn't like he'd troubled to hide his wanderlust. From their very first meeting Merlin had had warning that one day it would come to this, only he'd chosen to ignore it because he was so swept away with the notion of having a father.

Luckily Gwen was a good-natured soul and rarely took offence. She patted Merlin gently on the thigh. "I'll put the kettle on," she said, in true British fashion.

She got to her feet and Merlin reached out to take hold of her hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She squeezed his hand in return.

But all the tea and sympathy in the world couldn't shift the ever-present ball of misery in Merlin's stomach. He tried to keep a brave face on it for Gwen, and nodded along with every possible suggestion she made for Balinor's absence. But it didn't matter how reasonable they were or she was, because Merlin already _knew_.

He climbed into bed that night with an aching head and this emptiness where his emotions had been. He buried himself under the duvet and wondered if he could get away with staying there forever. Only the insistent buzzing of his phone disturbed that plan.

Merlin reached out one arm to snag it and firmly squashed the false hope that sprang within him. It wasn't from Balinor, but then Merlin had known that all along.

IF THERE'S ANYTHING I CAN DO, ANYTHING AT ALL, CALL ME. DAY OR NIGHT.

Not for the first time since they had met, Merlin fell to sleep with thoughts of Arthur Pendragon.

**********

“Any news?”

Every time Gwen asked that question – and there had been numerous occasions over the last few days – she had such an expression of hope on her face that it physically hurt Arthur to disappoint.

He grimaced and gave a slight shake of his head. “How's Merlin doing?” he asked, because if disappointing Gwen was painful, it was nothing compared to the thought of letting Merlin down.

Gwen returned his grimace with interest and Arthur’s heart sank.

“That bad?”

“He says not, but I hear him rattling around the flat at two am, and I haven’t seen him eat a proper mean since this all started.” Gwen scowled – it was a foreign expression on her usually sunny face. “Is it wrong of me that I think Merlin was better off before all of this?” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “I mean, I know it was bad, his mum lying to him and everything, but maybe she knew what she was doing.”

“It’s not bad,” Arthur replied. “And you’re not the only one thinking it. Some people don’t deserve to be parents.” Despite the problems they’d had over the years, the numerous arguments and Uther's control issues, Arthur was in no doubt that his father would always be there.

“I don’t know what to do,” Gwen said, and finished with a sigh. “Merlin’s so intent on putting on this brave face, but he’s crap at it and anyone with eyes can see he’s devastated.”

“Do you think we should contact his mother?” Arthur suggested. He didn’t really think it was that great an idea, given Merlin’s mother was still in the dark about Balinor’s reappearance – but Merlin was beginning to fall apart in front of their eyes and frankly he was clutching at straws.

Gwen shook her head emphatically. “No. Merlin’s dealing with enough right now – you throw in all the unresolved anger he has towards his mother on top of it and he’s likely to...to...” Gwen shrugged, clearly unable to think of an appropriate adjective. “You know what I mean, right?”

Arthur nodded. Truth be told it was a conversation he hadn’t relished, and certainly not the circumstances under which he’d hoped to meet Merlin’s mother. “I just feel so useless. My secretary’s busy ringing every hospital, hotel, police station, or police station in the Greater London area; you’re there for Merlin, and me? I’m pouring coffee.”

Gwen didn’t reply. She just stared. Arthur wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. True, he hadn’t expected her to congratulate him on his ode to self-pity, but an acknowledgement of some sort would have been nice.

Then the staring just became plain awkward. “Um, Gwen?”

Gwen jolted back to awareness with his words. “What? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking. You’ve really got your secretary doing all that?”

“Yes.” For the life of him Arthur couldn’t keep the defensiveness from his tone. “I know _I_ should have, but with the hours I’m here, it’s just easier. Besides, it’s not like she has anything else to do at the moment.” Arthur tried his hardest for flippancy at the end, but Gwen was still looking at him as though seeing him for the first time.

“You really do care about him.” There was a touch of wonder to her tone that stung just a little.

“Yes.” Arthur spoke through gritted teeth – he was so tired of having to explain his motives all the time. “Have I ever given you reason to think otherwise?”

Gwen’s shamefaced expression mollified him somewhat. “No,” she replied quietly. “I don’t suppose you have.”

“Look, Gwen,” Arthur was determined to lay this to rest once and for all. “I know Morgana has a less than savoury opinion of me, and seems quite open about who she shares it with, but I’m honestly not as bad as she makes out. I would never deliberately hurt Merlin.”

“Not deliberately,” Gwen agreed. “But what about the rest?”

“I can’t promise never to hurt him. That’s what people in relationships do – it’s part of the price you pay for all the good stuff that comes with it. Look at how many times it’s happened already.”

Gwen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A lot,” she said, and looked thoughtful. “Maybe you two just aren’t right for each other, even with the best of intentions.”

Arthur’s chest tightened in alarm. The last thing he needed was Merlin hearing things like that. Not when Arthur was working so hard for another chance. “Look, I know that whole thing with Sophia was a bloody mess, but it wasn’t my fault. She forced herself on me, and then Merlin ran off without giving me a chance to explain.” Arthur folded his arms here and fell back on the trusty pout that had never failed him thus far. “So, if anything, I was the injured party in that situation.”

Gwen laughed, to Arthur’s relief. “They’re right about one thing – Morgana and Merlin, that is. You’re a manipulative bugger – with your puppy eyes and pouty lips.” She shook her head. “No wonder you have women throwing themselves at you.”

“Not tempted then?” Arthur couldn’t resist teasing.

“Sorry.” Gwen patted him on the shoulder. “You’re just not my type. I prefer my men a little more...manly.”

Arthur spluttered. He couldn’t help it. Not even her teasing tone and the wink Gwen gave softened the blow to his ego. But before he had time to come up with a suitable reply, his phone rang.

“Saved by the bell.”

Arthur gave a mock glare as he pulled his phone from his pocket. But the moment he saw the caller id his expression shifted to blank.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur shushed her with a wave of his hand. “It’s Merlin,” he said curtly, then clamped the phone to his ear.

**********

Merlin placed the phone back on the table and tried to ignore the way his hand trembled. In all honestly he was far more concerned with the rolling wave of nausea sweeping through him, which had started when he opened his front door and showed no signs of abating soon. Because there were two policemen sitting on his sofa, incongruous against the shabby fabric in their immaculate uniforms, and Merlin knew, he _knew_ why they were there.

He glanced at his watch and tried to figure out how long it would take Arthur to get there, and whether he could stall the inevitable that long. Why it had been Arthur he'd called, and not Gwen – the more obvious choice – Merlin wasn't even about to consider right now. Ever since his father had disappeared out of his life for a second time, Merlin had maintained a tenuous grip on his emotions, and now was really not the time to try and work out just _what_ Arthur meant to him. He just needed him, and that was enough for now.

"Can I get you either of you a drink?" Merlin steeled himself and turned round to face the harbingers perched uncomfortably on the couch Gwen's grandmother had given them.

"Thank you for the offer, but we're fine." The taller policeman answered for his colleague as well, and Merlin found himself wondering if they spent so much time together that they became almost like twins, anticipating each other's needs, finishing each other's sentences.

The other man, PC Simpson, if Merlin remembered correctly – he had been a little distracted at the time – nodded his agreement. The expression on his face, on _both_ their faces was a mixture of pity and discomfort, and it set Merlin's teeth on edge. He knew they were just doing their job, it wasn't _their_ fault, but it was just so cold and impersonal. It shouldn't be like this.

"Can we just do this," he blurted out suddenly.

"Wouldn't you prefer to wait until your friend arrived?" It was the attempted gentle tone that was the final straw for Merlin – like he was a child or an idiot and needed to be managed.

He shook his head emphatically. "He'll be here soon enough. I'd really just rather get this over with."

There was a moment of throat-clearing which chafed Merlin's already frayed nerves, then the words which did even more damage.

"I'm sorry to inform you..."

Merlin struggled to pay attention to the well-practised speech that followed. He heard words like _car crash_ and _severe trauma_ , and he managed to extend a steady hand to accept the small package of personal effects that were offered, but the stabbing pain, the gut-wrenching misery of loss that he'd expected to feel, none of it came. And in its place, just a wash of nothing.

"The body is ready to be released as soon as you are able to make the appropriate arrangements."

Merlin just nodded. He had a vague feeling that he should protest the use of such an impersonal term to describe his father, but they were only doing a job; it wasn't them that knocked his father over and left him for dead by the roadside.

*

Arthur's heart had been racing the entirety of the short journey from the coffee shop to Merlin's flat. He was fairly sure the taxi driver would be only too glad to see the back of him, after several desperate attempts to bribe him into driving faster. Not that there was much point of that. Not in London, with its nightmarish congestion and bloody cyclists everywhere.

He tried not to read too much into the fact that Merlin had reached out to him of all people, but it was hard not to. They were on better terms of late – the whole Sophia debacle firmly behind them – but Merlin was still insistent on _just friends_. Which was something Arthur was prepared to accept for now, because it was Merlin and he would take anything he could get, maybe this was a sign that Merlin was ready for more.

And then he felt instantly guilty. Merlin was in a mess right now. His father disappearing without a word had devastated him in a way that made Arthur's heart ache with the need to hold him, to make everything all right. Only clearly things weren't. Granted Merlin hadn't said much during that brief phone call, but it didn't require a genius to work out something wasn't right.

Arthur gazed out of the taxi window at the passing city and tried not to think about what that something might be. Which was easier said than done, because moments later they turned a sharp left, and the first thing Arthur saw was the glaringly bright paintwork of the police car parked quite definitely outside Merlin's flat.

With barely a glance at the meter, Arthur flung a twenty at the driver and wrenched the door open – he was already halfway down the street before it slammed shut behind him. Two policemen were sedately walking down the pathway while Merlin stood in the doorway and watched, his face an emotionless mask.

Arthur paid little heed to the exiting visitors; he brushed past them with eyes only for Merlin.

"Merlin?" He stopped when they were only inches apart. "Are you okay?" Arthur cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder at the retreating policemen and then back at his friend.

"I'm fine," Merlin replied, his voice flat and monotone. Then without further words, he turned on his heel and led the way inside.

Arthur followed him up the stairs wordlessly and inside the flat. His mind was already racing with possibilities of what was wrong – none of them good.

"Can I get you a drink?" Merlin asked, once the door was closed behind them. "Tea or coffee?" Without waiting for a reply, he headed into the kitchen.

Once again, Arthur followed. Merlin was acting very strangely and he was damned if he wasn't going to get to the bottom of it.

The sound of clinking mugs filled the silence of the kitchen, and for a moment Arthur just watched as Merlin moved around the room.

"Merlin?"

"D'you have sugar?" Merlin enquired as if Arthur hadn't spoken. "I can never remember."

Arthur stepped closer, until he was only inches behind Merlin, and placed his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "Stop," he said softly.

Merlin stilled for a moment. "I can't," he said, and Arthur could literally feel the tension radiating from him. "I just..."

Merlin started trembling then and without a second thought Arthur pulled him close, pressing Merlin's back tight against his chest, and his arms snugly around his waist. "Tell me what's wrong?" Arthur asked, his lips practically brushing against Merlin's ear.

The last thing Arthur expected in reply was for Merlin to laugh. It was a harsh, hollow sound, and it caused something in Arthur's chest to tighten inexplicably. "What is it?"

"He's dead," Merlin got out between bursts. "It's ironic isn't it? All those years when I thought he was and now he actually is. For real, this time."

When the laughter showed no signs of abating and appeared to verge on the hysterical, Arthur forcibly turned Merlin around and pulled him tight to his chest. He held on tightly, rubbing one hand in what he hoped were soothing circles on Merlin's back, while the other cupped the back of his neck gently.

They stood like that for what felt to Arthur like a lifetime. But gradually the bursts of laughter became breathless gasps and Merlin clung to Arthur just as tightly in return. When only the occasional tremor ran through Merlin's body, Arthur felt the touch of hot tears against his neck, and whilst his heart ached for Merlin, Arthur was relieved that here, at last, was a reaction he could deal with.

Several minutes, and numerous meaningless platitudes later, Merlin sniffled quietly and then pulled back a little from Arthur's embrace. His eyes were rimmed red and bloodshot, but at least they displayed emotion now.

"I don't know what to do," he said brokenly. "They kept talking about post-mortems and release paperwork, and..." Merlin looked at Arthur in panic. "There's no one else to do it, and he was my father, so of course I should, but I just...I don't know the first thing about organising a funeral – who I contact, how much it's going to cost." Merlin gave another short hollow laugh. "How the hell am I going to pay for it all? Coffins and flowers and headstones; it all costs money. Money I don't have. And it's not like I can ask my mum to help out."

This was one of the rare occasions in his life when Arthur acted purely on instinct. The look of abject misery on Merlin's face left little room for him to do anything else. "Shhh," he murmured, tugging Merlin close again. "It'll be fine. I'll take care of everything. Don't worry."

"You can't," Merlin protested and wriggled to get free of Arthur's embrace.

Arthur simply held on tight. "I want to," he said firmly. "You have enough to deal with already without worrying about this sort of thing. Let me do this for you, please?"

Merlin stilled and remained silent for what felt like an age. Then finally he nodded and relaxed in Arthur's arms. "Thank you," he whispered.

Arthur couldn't think of anything appropriate to say at that moment, so instead he pressed a quick kiss to Merlin's temple. "I should phone Gwen," he said after a moment. "She was frantic when I left earlier."

"I don't want to see anyone." Merlin's words were muffled where his face was pressed to the crook of Arthur's neck. "Not yet. She'll want to talk and I just...I can't."

Arthur was silent for a moment while he tried to process whether that statement applied to him or not. But before he could reach a decision and shift the slightly nauseous feeling from his stomach, Merlin put his fears to rest.

"I don't mean you," he said quietly. "Just no one else. Not yet."

Arthur nodded, almost ashamed of how relieved he felt in that moment. "Morgana's out tonight," he said slowly. "You could come round to mine. If you wanted too, that is."

Merlin pulled back again and looked at Arthur intently for a moment.

"Just if you wanted some space, I meant," Arthur added hurriedly, suddenly afraid his motives were being misinterpreted. "I didn't mean—"

"Arthur, it's okay." Merlin gave the shakiest of smiles. "Thank you. That would be perfect."

Arthur smiled in return. "Good," he said briskly. "How about I ring Gwen and at least calm her down a little, and you can go and grab anything you want to bring with you?"

Merlin nodded, then turned on his heel and crossed the room. He stopped halfway. "Arthur," he said quietly. "I...thank you."

Arthur felt the emotion building in his own chest, but he took a deep breath and smiled instead. "It's fine, Merlin. Honestly. Now get on and let me ring Gwen before she spontaneously combusts."

*

Arthur shifted in a futile bid for comfort and cursed the day he had allowed Morgana to select the furniture in their flat. Leather sofas really weren't designed for sleeping on.

Not that he was particularly tired, truth be told. His mind was still too full of all things Merlin for sleep to be a realistic prospect. The fact that Merlin was now tucked up in his bed, just a few short feet away, was foremost of those distractions.

 

Arthur had had his suspicions for a few weeks now, but it had taken that afternoon to clarify just how he felt about Merlin. That much was clear to him now, but where Merlin stood in relation to that, that still remained a mystery. And given the events of earlier that day, it would be some time before Arthur would be able to find out. He wasn't about to push Merlin for anything, not when he had enough on his plate already.

Strangely enough, that afternoon had left Arthur feeling closer to Merlin than he had done at any point in the past, even that first night when it hadn't been physically possible for them to _be_ any closer.

They'd secreted themselves away in Arthur's room, with only a pile of DVDs and a heap of junk food for company. Sometime partway through the Italian job – the original version, as Merlin had insisted – Merlin had fallen asleep, his head nestled on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur was a little embarrassed to think about just how long he had sat there, revelling in something as simple as that touch. Eventually he'd had to move – not even his stubbornness could hold out against the call of nature.

So he'd eased himself off the bed, ensured that Merlin was comfortably supported by pillows, and finally pulled the covers over him slightly.

This was why Arthur found himself in his current position. He honestly hadn't given any thought to sleeping arrangements when he'd made his offer to Merlin earlier. There was no real reason _why_ they couldn't share a bed – it wasn't like they hadn't before – expect that Merlin was asleep, and Arthur didn't want to presume. If for no other reason than it might look like he was attempting to take advantage of Merlin's vulnerable state – and both Morgana and Gwen would have something to say about that.

"Arthur?"

Arthur started in surprise. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the bedroom door open, or Merlin pad across the room. He rolled onto his back and looked up to see Merlin peering sleepily down at him – or what looked like Merlin in the dim light. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his tone.

"I'm fine." Merlin's tone sounded surer than it had all day. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep." Arthur grimaced once again as his neck twinged.

"You should have woken me." Merlin rubbed absently at his hair. "I'd have slept out here."

"You're a guest, Merlin. I'm not going to make you sleep on this monstrosity."

"If it's that uncomfortable, neither should you."

Arthur laughed softly. "When the only other option is topping and tailing with Morgana, the sofa's not so bad."

"You could share with me." Merlin's voice sounded uncertain, almost timid. "I promise to keep my cold feet to myself."

Arthur didn't reply straight away. He needed a moment to rein in his emotions before he spoke. Unfortunately Merlin took this as a bad thing.

"You don't have to," he continued quietly. "I just thought—"

"It's fine," Arthur said quickly and then struggled into a upright position. "I would have earlier, but I just didn't know if you'd mind or not."

"Not," Merlin said decidedly, and Arthur couldn't help the broad grin that spread over his face. He could only hope that it was sufficiently dark enough to dim the wattage somewhat.

Once in bed, Merlin swiftly rolled over on his side and appeared to fall asleep. Arthur, on the other hand, lay flat on his back, wide awake, and pondered the strangeness of him having an actual platonic bedtime companion.

It was quite nice, actually. There was something rather soothing about Merlin's quiet, regular breaths, and the occasional snuffling sound he made had Arthur smiling like an idiot every time.

Sleep was unlikely to come, Arthur decided after an hour or so of wakefulness, so he decided to simply enjoy the comforting presence of Merlin's body so close to him. Just as he was wondering how close he could shift towards Merlin and still pass it off as accidental, Arthur heard something that sounded distinctly like a sniffle.

His thoughts came to a crashing halt then, as the overwhelming urge to _protect_ took over again. He waited, though, for a moment, for further confirmation of his suspicions. When the shudders of Merlin's body began to vibrate through the mattress, and a poorly concealed sob shattered the silence, Arthur held back no more.

He scooted across the bed and – for want of a better word – spooned against Merlin's back, with one arm firmly around his waist. "It's okay," Arthur murmured. "It's okay." He feathered his fingers across Merlin's stomach in what he hoped were vaguely soothing motions.

"Arthur." Merlin sounded so utterly broken that Arthur's heart ached painfully for him.

"I'm here," he murmured, and instinctively pressed a light kiss to the soft skin of Merlin's neck.

In a flurry of movement, Merlin twisted in Arthur's embrace. But before Arthur had time to fully register this, Merlin had shifted again so that he was practically on top of him.

The kiss, when it came, was desperate and needy, and despite all of his noble intentions, Arthur couldn't help but respond in kind. He tangled his fingers in Merlin's hair, angling his head just so, before he slid his tongue past Merlin's parted lips.

It was only when their foreheads bumped with the franticness of their movements that reality caught up with Arthur. He stopped responding instantly and placed his hands on Merlin's shoulders.

"Merlin, stop."

"You don't want to?" There was a _smallness_ to Merlin's voice that Arthur hoped never to hear again.

"It's not that." Arthur trailed one finger along Merlin's cheekbone and down to his lips. "We can't."

"Speak for yourself," Merlin replied, and Arthur was surprised to hear the teasing note in his voice. Nowhere near as surprised as he was when Merlin ground a rather impressive erection into his thigh.

Arthur groaned. In that moment he had everything he'd wanted for some time. Only Merlin was vulnerable, he was grieving, and Arthur's damn scruples wouldn't let him take advantage.

Merlin seemed to understand Arthur's problem. He nosed along the line of Arthur's jaw temptingly. "You're not taking advantage," he said, voice rough and low. "I want this." Then he slid his hand down Arthur's body and cupped his erection through the thin fabric of his pyjama bottoms. "And so do you."

Arthur bucked up into the touch. He couldn't help it. He was only human after all.

"That's it," Merlin said in satisfaction. Then he slipped his hand inside Arthur's pyjamas and wrapped his hand around the bare skin of Arthur's hard cock.

After a few strokes of Merlin's hand, Arthur could barely remember his own name, much less what his objections had been. But what he did know was that this was about Merlin, not him. So he carefully reversed their positions until Merlin was spread out underneath him.

Arthur smoothed his hands covetously over the bare skin of Merlin's chest, pausing only briefly to tease his nipples. Merlin arched into the touch with a soft groan.

Thus encouraged, Arthur kissed his way slowly down Merlin's torso, pausing only when he reached the waist band of his pyjamas. He quickly hooked his fingers under the fabric and tugged. Merlin raised his hips slightly to help, and soon Arthur was consumed with the sight and the scent of Merlin's cock, so close.

"Arthur, please."

Needing no further encouragement, Arthur lowered his head and took Merlin's cock into his mouth. Teasing the shaft with his tongue, Arthur took in as much as he could manage – he hadn't remembered Merlin being this _endowed_.

Merlin reached down with one hand and grabbed hold of his hair. Arthur didn't protest until it became apparent that Merlin was pulling him off rather than further on to his cock.

"Are you okay," he asked, noting proudly how husky his voice now was. "Do you not want—?"

"God no!" Merlin replied with soothing alacrity. "I want..." Merlin tailed off and instead tugged Arthur upwards and into another messy, desperate kiss. Arthur couldn't remember a more perfect one. "I just..." Merlin gasped as he pulled away. "I want you in me. Please, Arthur." He wrapped his legs around Arthur's waist so there could be no doubt.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, even though a large part of his brain was screaming at him to _shut the fuck up_.

Merlin bit nervously on his bottom lip and nodded. "I'm sure," he said quietly.

Arthur leant in then and pressed their lips together slowly, pouring every emotion he wasn't able to express into that kiss. It was so sweet and tender that for a moment Arthur choked up. He pulled back reluctantly to a murmur of protest from Merlin, then raised himself on his hands and knees and reached over for the bedside drawer.

"Where're you going?" Merlin asked as his legs reluctantly relinquished their grip on Arthur's waist.

"Nowhere without you," Arthur replied, and then winced to himself at the cheesiness of his words.

Merlin didn't seem to mind. He raised his head off the pillow and kissed Arthur's bare shoulder.

Arthur fished around blindly in the drawer and had to swallow a cry of triumph when his fingers closed around the bottle of lubricant. He turned back to the bed then. "I'm back," he quipped, as he knelt over Merlin and teasingly slid off his pyjama bottoms.

Under Merlin's intense gaze, Arthur liberally coated his fingers with the oily substance. "D'you want to..." he made a vague rolling motion with his hand.

"No." Merlin shook his head decidedly. "I want to be able to see you. Kiss you."

Arthur took this as the hint he suspected it was. He lowered himself down and his lips found Merlin's again. It was less desperate this time, more like an exploration as their tongues slid teasingly into each other's mouths.

Arthur trailed his hand down Merlin's body and circled his hole for a moment before sliding one finger inside carefully. He prepared Merlin lovingly – there really was no other way for the gentle way he worshipped Merlin's body. And when Arthur finally slid inside and felt the tight heat of Merlin's body surround him, and heard his name breathed like a prayer on Merlin's lips, Arthur could think of nothing he'd done to deserve such happiness. But he determined to spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy.

**********

 

When Arthur emerged, bleary-eyed the next morning, he practically tripped over Morgana who appeared to have set up camp outside his door.

“What the hell?” He staggered slightly and rubbed at his eyes.

“I think that’s my question, don’t you?” Morgana’s tone was low, but the anger in it was unmissable.

“Sorry, I don’t follow.” Arthur gave a shrug before heading over to the kitchen. He flipped the switch on the coffee maker and reached for the cupboard above. Before he could remove his favourite mug, Morgana leant over him and slammed to door shut. “What the fuck?” Arthur spun round and glared. “What _is_ your problem?”

Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “You are,” she snapped. “You and your complete inability to keep your dick in your pants.”

“Oh,” Arthur said softly, and suddenly everything made sense. “Look, Morgana, it's not what you think.”

Morgana stepped closer so they were almost toe to toe. “Don’t bullshit me,” she hissed. “Merlin’s father just _died_ and all you can think about is getting your leg over. That’s a new low, even for you.”

Arthur scrubbed tiredly at his face with one hand. “Keep your voice down; you’ll wake him.”

Morgana laughed bitterly. “It’s a shame you weren’t so concerned about his welfare last night when you were busy taking advantage.”

“He didn’t.”

That stopped both Arthur and Morgana in their tracks and they turned slowly to face Merlin, who hovered uncertainly in the bedroom doorway. He looked terrible.

“I appreciate the concern, Morgana.” He smiled softly at her. “But Arthur didn’t do anything that I didn’t want.”

It took a great deal of Arthur's self control _not_ to stick his tongue out at his sister. Firstly because he was a little too old for such behaviour, but mainly because his primary concern right now was for Merlin. “How are you feeling?” he asked, and then kicked himself for asking such a stupid question.

Merlin’s smile didn’t fade but it was definitely shaky. “I’m okay, I guess.” He shook his head slightly. “As well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

Suddenly the distance between them was too much for Arthur to bear. Merlin just looked so lost, so fragile, and this overwhelming urge to _protect_ swept through him. He closed the distance between them and reached out – his hand hovered uncertainly just over Merlin's cheek. “You look exhausted,” he murmured, mindful of Morgana’s constant presence.

Merlin leant tiredly into the touch. “I feel it,” he admitted wryly.

“You should go back to bed.” Arthur gave into temptation and traced his thumb gently just under Merlin’s eyes, the dark bruises there caused his heart to clench just a little.

"There's no point." Merlin fought to stifle a yawn even as he spoke. "I won't be able to sleep."

Arthur arched one brow – he couldn't help it. "Really?" he asked, voice heavy with scepticism.

"Okay," Merlin admitted with a reluctant smile. "Maybe I could. But I don't want to. It's just...I could really do without dreaming at the moment."

"You know you're going to have to eventually." Arthur let his hand trail downwards until it rested on Merlin's shoulder. "You'll make yourself ill."

"I know. And I will, I promise. Just not now." Merlin paused and took a deep breath; it seemed to Arthur he was struggling to compose himself. "Besides, I'm supposed to be teaching a class this morning, and I've got an essay that won't write itself."

Arthur bit back the urge to argue. Clearly Merlin was in no frame of mind to be doing either, but if there was one thing Arthur understood, it was the desire to lose oneself in work. To use it as a distraction from the more painful things in life one would rather avoid. He nodded instead. "Okay. Just...call me if you need anything, yeah?"

Merlin leant in and pressed a swift kiss to Arthur's lips; when he pulled back there was a faint flush colouring his pale cheeks. "I will." He stopped then and shivered slightly.

"You're cold." Arthur hadn't meant the words to come out sounding as much like an accusation as they did, so he reached out and slowly rubbed his hands along Merlin's arms. "Freezing, in fact," he amended.

Merlin glanced down and then smiled ruefully. "I suppose I should put some clothes on."

"Oh, I don't know." Arthur trailed his eyes over Merlin's body. He couldn't help it; he was only human. And Merlin clad in nothing more than a pair of black boxers was enough to distract the most strong-willed of people. "I think I prefer you like this."

Morgana coughed pointedly and the flush on Merlin's cheeks deepened.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, Morgana, did you want something?"

"Just to remind you that I'm still here."

"Yes, you are." Arthur turned his head to look at her, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Why is that? Don't you have a job to go to?"

Morgana gave a toss of her carefully styled waves. "I could say the same to you. That coffee's not going to pour itself, you know."

Arthur ignored the smirk and turned back to face Merlin. "Be grateful you're an only child."

Merlin gave a tentative smile. "I should..." he nodded in the direction of Arthur's room. "I should get dressed." He stepped back with a look of reluctance and Arthur's hands slid from his arms.

Arthur remained silent and watched as Merlin turned to leave; he couldn't help but run his eyes once again over the lean lines of Merlin's frame.

"Arthur?"

It took a moment for Arthur to realise Merlin had stopped. He looked up, only vaguely embarrassed at being caught. Merlin was stood in the door way, half turned between the bedroom and lounge, one hand gripping the frame.

"Yeah?" Arthur stepped closer instinctively.

"Thank you. For everything." Merlin gave a slight shake of his head. "I'm not sure I could have..." he tailed off uncertainly.

Arthur wasn't sure what to say in response. He could hardly say _it's my pleasure_ , because although it was, and he'd gladly do all that and more for Merlin, it just wasn't appropriate in the circumstances. And emotions had never been his strong point, anyway. So he acted instead.

The kiss was soft and tender and Arthur struggled to pour into it every emotion that he was physically unable to give voice to. His hands gently cradled Merlin's jaw, angling his head slightly so that their lips met perfectly in an expression of such feelings that Arthurs chest clenched painfully and his breath stuttered.

Arthur pulled back reluctantly, with one last small kiss to the corner of Merlin's lips. "You should come round tonight," he said, trying his hardest to concentrate on Merlin's eyes and not on his kiss-swollen mouth. "If you want to, that is."

Merlin appeared to almost sag with relief. "I'd like that. Thank you."

The depth of gratitude in Merlin's eyes was almost too much for Arthur to bear and he felt a little guilty. It wasn't like he'd done that much really, and being there for Merlin, well, it wasn't exactly a hardship. "Just put some clothes on," he said finally. "Because you have about sixty seconds before I drag you back to bed."

Merlin smiled his first real smile in a while and turned back into Arthur's room. Arthur just stood there for a moment, stared at the closed door, and tried to marshal his jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order.

"You really do care about him, don't you?" That was the second time it twenty-four hours someone had said that to him, and in that tone of wonderment too. Arthur bit back a sarcastic reply.

He turned to face her. "Is your opinion of me _that_ low that you think I'd take advantage of someone's grief just to get a shag?"

Morgana opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. Her expression, however, said it all as far as Arthur was concerned.

"Well, that's just fucking charming, isn’t it?"

"No, Arthur." Morgana placed her cup carefully on the worktop before she crossed the room. "I didn't really think that. It's just, I've seen how you've been in other _relationships_ – can you really blame me for doubting you?"

"This isn't like that. Merlin's...he's different." Arthur raked both hands through his hair in frustration – he was having a hard enough time trying to come to terms with his feelings by himself, without having them scrutinised by Morgana.

"I know." Morgana reached out a hand towards her brother, but then appeared to think better of it. "And I'm sorry. I just didn't realise. I've never seen you like that with someone before, apart from maybe Freya."

That stung, and Arthur didn't trouble to hide his wince. Freya was undoubtedly his first love, no matter how many times he'd tried to deny it to lessen the pain. The break up had been harsh and messy, and Arthur had been left with even more emotional hang-ups afterwards. It was an unspoken rule that her name wasn't mentioned. Or at least it _had_ been.

"I'm sorry," Morgana repeated. And Arthur couldn't help but smile a little, because twice in one day had to be something of a record. "I thought Merlin was just another conquest for you. Another notch on your bedpost."

"Well he's not," Arthur replied sharply – how many times did he have to say it?

"I know that now." Morgana shook her head and smiled gently. "I can't believe my baby brother's all grown up and finally in an adult relationship."

"Relationship?" Arthur repeated, trying the word out for his own benefit as much as anything.

"I'm afraid so, Arthur." Morgana laughed at his reaction. "Don't even try to deny it. The two of you are adorable together."

Arthur groaned. "God. You're going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?"

Morgana's smirk spoke volumes. "Like you were with me and Owain? Oh, I'd say so. Payback's a bitch after all."

Arthur was sensible enough make sure he was well out of arms reach before muttering, "And so are you."

**********

"I don't think I can do this." They were the first words out of Merlin's mouth as he opened the door to Arthur, and he instantly wished he could take them back.

Arthur reached out, took hold of Merlin's wrist in a circle of strong, capable fingers. "Yes, you can."

There was such confidence, such belief in Arthur's words that Merlin felt the tiniest bit of tension ease from his body. He stepped back and gestured inside, pausing to admire just how good Arthur looked in a suit as he walked past. Then the panic returned.

"I don't have a tie," he blurted out. "I can't go to my dad's funeral without a tie."

Arthur turned to face him and immediately closed the small gap between them. His hands clasped gently at Merlin's shoulders. "Relax, Merlin," he said softly. "You'll be fine. I promise."

"And if I'm not?" Merlin winced at how raw his voice sounded, but he couldn't help it.

Arthur gazed at him in silence for a moment, and then slid his hands down Merlin's arms slowly. "Then I'll be there to help you," he said, before tangling his fingers with Merlin's and squeezing gently. "We'll get through it together."

Merlin slumped slightly with relief, safe in the knowledge that, should he falter, Arthur would be there to catch him. Gwen had been her usual wonderful caring self – nothing was too much trouble – and even Morgana had shed her normally prickly exterior to display a heart of gold beneath, but Arthur... Merlin didn't have the words to express how grateful he was for everything Arthur had done for him. And he allowed himself just a brief moment, a happy thought in the midst of an unhappy day, to imagine what his life could be like with Arthur always by his side. The prospect left him breathless.

"Merlin?"

It was only then that Merlin realised he had been quietly staring at Arthur for some time.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Merlin fiddled with the cuffs of his new shirt. "I just...I don't have a tie," he blurted out again, feeling the all too familiar worry take hold.

Arthur freed his hands from Merlin's and slipped one in his jacket pocket. At the sight of a black tie in his hands, Merlin could have wept. "You didn't strike me as the tie-wearing sort."

"I could kiss you." Merlin reached out with hands that shook ever so slightly.

Arthur batted them away. "Let me," he said softly. Then added, "You'll only make a pig's ear of it, Emrys."

Merlin managed another small smile and stood compliantly while Arthur looped the tie around his neck, adjusted his collar, and efficiently knotted it. The way Arthur's fingertips grazed his neck lightly throughout was incredibly distracting – even given everything that was on Merlin's mind. And when Arthur pulled back slightly to admire his work, and adjust the knot with a satisfied "there", it was all Merlin could do not to kiss him senseless. Only the sight of Gwen and Morgana hovering in the doorway, watching them both with definite expressions of _awwww_ on their faces, stopped Merlin's intentions in their tracks.

"You'll do him proud," Arthur said suddenly, and brushed invisible lint from the shoulders of Merlin's jacket. Then, as his fingers curled slightly in the fabric, he pulled Merlin close until they were almost nose to nose. "You make _me_ proud," he said, voice low and his gaze firmly locked on Merlin's. Then he dipped forward and pressed a kiss to Merlin's lips. It was hard and brief, but it was the kind of kiss that was so full of feelings, of words unspoken, that Merlin wanted to cry. Just a little bit.

When Arthur pulled back he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away, but in those first brief moments, Merlin saw enough to know that Arthur was as afraid of what was happening as he was, and strangely enough he was able to take courage from that.

"Merlin?" The soft click of Gwen's heels announced her arrival, even before her words. "The car's here. We should probably get going.

*

It was only the second funeral Merlin had ever been to. The first, his maternal grandmother's, had been when he was only a small boy – still in short trousers and far too young to understand the gravity of the situation. His only real memory was of seeing his mother cry and being utterly shocked, because grownups were brave and strong, and they didn't cry, did they?

Not for his father were the crowds of mourners who crammed the church for his grandmother. Merlin was unspeakably grateful to Arthur, Gwen and Morgana for swelling the ranks, because without them, it was just Merlin, the vicar, and a couple of men from the hostel his father lodged in, who were, Merlin suspected, there on the off chance of a free feed rather than out of any great respect for his father's memory.

Merlin's plan all along had been to keep his gaze firmly on the vicar throughout. He'd told himself repeatedly that his father was dead, gone, that no part of the man he had known was contained within the highly-polished coffin that rested just a few short feet from where he sat. It was just a body in a box. But it was easier said than done.

So he tried instead to focus on the smaller things. The flowers, abundant, beautiful, and doubtlessly expensive, that decorated both the coffin and the church itself. Merlin was trying his hardest not to think about just how much this whole funeral had cost Arthur, or how he was ever going to repay him. Everything from the cars, to the coffin, to the elegant headstone; Arthur had not only paid for it all, but had insisted on doing so, refusing to hear any suggestion of Merlin forking out. And the one time Merlin had broached the subject of repayment, Arthur had looked so offended that Merlin had dropped the topic instantly.

The sermon dragged on. The endless biblical passages about life, eternity, and the promise of something beyond left Merlin cold. He hadn't been raised with any particular religious beliefs – a product of his mother's rebellion against her own upbringing – and the concept of a god who would judge and condemn based solely on who you loved...well, it didn't exactly inspire Merlin to worship.

The tears he had expected to fall never came. Not even as he watched his father's body being lowered into a gaping hole in the ground. It was as if a mantle of numbness had settled over him upon entering the church, and there was just a hollow pit inside where he'd expected a torrent of emotions to be.

It was only when the box of soil was passed to him; when he dug inside and felt the dusty earth bed under his nails; as he threw it blindly into the open grave and listened to resulting sound echo in the empty churchyard. The reality, the _finality_ of it all came crashing home, and suddenly Merlin didn't care where he was, who was watching him, or what their damn judgement would be.

He turned to Arthur instinctively and without even having to voice his need found himself cradled gently to Arthur's broad chest – strong, comforting arms holding him in place.

Arthur's lips pressed close to Merlin's ear, murmuring words of soothing nonsense, and the dam broke. Burying his face tightly in the crook of Arthur's neck, Merlin cried hot tears against his skin – for himself, his father, and even for his mother, because although she'd lied to him for all those years, Merlin had a feeling she'd lost just as much as him that day.

Eventually the sobs subsided, and only the occasional tremor wracked Merlin's frame. How long he had clung like that, sheltering in the comfort of Arthurs arms, Merlin had no idea. But if the dampness of Arthur's shirt and the aching of his head were anything to go by, it had been some time.

Arthur slid his hands up to Merlin's shoulders and pressed him back slightly. Merlin sniffled and looked at him reluctantly – his eyes were bound to be red and puffy.

"Hi," he said softly.

Arthur smiled. It was the kind of smile that made Merlin want to climb inside him and never leave. Then, as if he wasn't already being perfect enough, he pressed his lips so gently to Merlin's temple. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

"But what about..." Merlin trailed off as he looked around and realised that apart from him and Arthur, the only people in the vicinity were a couple of men hovering nearby carrying shovels. Which just brought everything crashing back in on him and Merlin felt his throat close up and his eyes itch with the threat of fresh tears.

"Come on." Arthur nodded in the direction of the car park. "Morgana's already taken Gwen back to yours. I thought we could go back to my flat." He paused for a moment and looked uncharacteristically uncertain. "If you want, that is. And I don't mean...well, you know." Arthur flushed, and it occurred to Merlin it was really a rather adorable look on him.

"I know." Merlin gave the closest thing to a smile he could manage. "I'd like that. Staying at yours, I mean." He glanced quickly at the men who had now begun to fill the new grave. "I don't want to be alone."

Arthur leant in and kissed him again. "Never," he murmured against Merlin's lips.

**********

"Are you sure about this?"

Merlin paused in the act of tying his apron and turned to face Gwen. He gave a brief nod. "I'm sure."

"Because I really don't mind arranging cover if you need a couple more days."

"Gwen. Stop fussing; I'm fine"

Gwen nodded reluctantly, the scepticism clear on her face. Then her gaze shifted to something over Merlin's shoulder and she smiled. " _I'll_ stop fussing," she said. "But I'm the least of your concerns in that department."

Merlin turned slightly, following the line of her gaze, just as Arthur ducked behind the counter and headed towards them. He looked back to Gwen with a questioning glance.

She shrugged. "Don't ask me. But he's been driving me crazy all morning. Something about you not answering your phone."

"I was in the shower." Merlin couldn't keep the exasperation out of his tone; he'd already explained that.

"Whatever the reason, it's like someone has taken Arthur and replaced him with a giant mother hen."

Merlin resisted the strong temptation to roll his eyes. There was a part of him that flourished under Arthur's concern, and the implied emotions behind it. But another part of him wanted to scream that he wasn't some delicate glass ornament, and could Arthur please stop treating him like he would break at any moment.

"Merlin." Arthur smiled broadly at him, but Merlin could see the way Arthur's eyes were already intently scanning his face. "You look tired," he said, and traced a thumb softly under Merlin's eye. "Why don't you go home; I'll cover your shift."

The tenderness of the action was almost enough to quell Merlin's irritation. "I'm fine." At the disbelieving look on Arthur's face he added, "Honestly."

Arthur's smile faded into a look of concern. "You look like you haven't slept in days. And as the person who's shared a bed with your tossing and turning, I _know_ that's because you haven't."

"If I'm keeping you awake, you only had to say. I can go back to my place just as easily."

"No, that's not...Merlin, I want you there, you know that. I'm just worried that you're not dealing with this as well as you'd like us to think."

"Oh really?" Merlin was a little stung by the accusation, more so because he knew deep down it was true. "And you think that too, do you?" He turned a sharp glare on Gwen.

Gwen raised one hand in front of her and shook her head. "Oh no, you're not dragging me into it; I've got work to do."

Merlin watched as Gwen walked back into the office and then turned back to Arthur. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but you need to let me handle this my own way. I know what I'm doing." It was all Merlin could do not to blush from telling that blatant lie. But he'd leant on Arthur far too much just recently and he couldn't just keep taking.

Arthur opened his mouth, clearly about to dispute Merlin's words, but thankfully appeared to think better of it. "Fine" he muttered eventually. "But if you don't get at least eight hours sleep tonight, I'm tying you to that bed."

"I'll hold you to that." Merlin gave a sly wink and was rewarded by the sight of a flush on Arthur's cheeks. But if he'd thought to throw Arthur off track with innuendo, Merlin really had reckoned without the Pendragon persistent gene.

"Have you spoken to your mum yet?"

Just like that the smile was gone from Merlin's face. "No." His tone and body language both screamed _and I don't want to talk about it either_. Unfortunately, Arthur wasn't _that_ perceptive.

"How come? I thought you were going to ring her this morning?"

"I'm not ready." Merlin turned away from Arthur, picked up a cloth and began furiously wiping the counter.

"Merlin—"

"I'm still too angry at her, okay?" Merlin flung the cloth down and with his elbows resting on the counter, cradled his head in his hands. "I can't do it."

Arthur's hand was warm and comforting on his back, rubbing small, soothing circles between his shoulder blades. Merlin couldn't see him, but he knew Arthur had leant in close because he could feel the ghost of his breath on his neck.

"You can't put it off forever. You know the longer you leave it the harder it's going to be."

"I know." Merlin turned his head to the side slightly and smiled weakly at Arthur. "I _will_ do it."

"When?" Arthur's gaze, like his questions, was unrelenting.

"As soon as I'm ready." Merlin knew it wasn't the answer that Arthur wanted, but it would have to be enough for now. It was the best he could do.

Arthur seemed to understand this, because after a moment spent gazing thoughtfully at Merlin, he leant in close and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

*

Arthur seemed to let the subject drop after that. Even when a week passed with still no sign of Merlin contacting his mother, Arthur remained silent on the subject. It wasn't that Merlin thought he could get away without telling his mother – however angry he was at her, and it _was_ a lot, she still had a right to be told. Despite how much he still smarted at being lied to for years, Merlin wasn't about to do the same in return.

It was just; he had no idea of where to start. He couldn't face his mother right now, he knew that much at least. But was this really the sort of news that could be broken over the phone?

As it turned out, Merlin's dilemma was brought to a swift resolution.

The last thing Merlin ever expected to see upon entering _The Magic Bean_ for his usual Thursday shift, was his boyfriend – although they had never actually got around to clarifying that – huddled around one of the smaller window tables, talking intently to his mother.

Merlin noticed them first and his chest immediately constricted in panic. From the expression on his mother's face, it was obvious that someone – and for someone, read Arthur – had told her about Merlin's father's death. And whilst a part of Merlin heaved a sigh of relief that he no longer had to be the bearer of that particular piece of bad news, more than anything he was overwhelmed by an increasing surge of anger.

Because, how dare Arthur go behind his back and force a confrontation that he _knew_ Merlin wasn't ready for?

Merlin tore his gaze away from them, taking several deep breaths to steady himself in the process. He found what he was looking for immediately. Gwen was behind the counter, just to the side of the till, twisting a cloth nervously in her fingers. Her eyes darted from Merlin over to Arthur and then back again, and the expression on her face had that _rabbit in headlights_ look about it.

While one part of Merlin was telling him to run, to turn on his heels and not look back, another part of him needed to know what was going on, for his own peace of mind if nothing else. Arthur's complicity was obvious, but Gwen...Merlin wasn't quite sure he could bear it if she had been involved as well. If the two people he cared about most had both betrayed him.

There was only one way to find out.

Merlin took a deep breath and stepped out onto the floor of the cafe. Despite his best attempts to ignore Arthur, Merlin could still see in his peripheral view the moment his presence was noted.

"Merlin!" Arthur was on his feet in an instant. Merlin's mother wasn't far behind.

Merlin kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and concentrated every fibre of his being on making it to the other side of the counter without breaking down in some way. His mum had smiled at him, actually _smiled_ , like Merlin was going to rush into her arms or something after the lies she'd told. And Arthur, well he just looked a little confused.

"Merlin." Gwen lifted the hatch up in readiness for his arrival. "I just want—"

"Did you know?" Merlin wasted no time. He stepped behind the counter and turned an angry glare on his flatmate.

"Know what?" Gwen avoided Merlin's gaze and took several steps back from him.

"Gwen." Merlin's voice sounded like it cracked and he couldn't help but wince at the sound. "Please don't play dumb with me. It's bad enough that Arthur's out there, doing whatever it is he thinks he's doing with my mother, so if you could just be straight with me I'd really appreciate it."

Gwen finally raised her gaze to meet his. "I only found out this morning," she said quietly. "I knew it was a bad idea, but your mum was already on her way, and Arthur was _so_ sure it was the right thing to do, and I just...I tried to tell him."

Merlin inhaled sharply. His relief at Gwen's lack of involvement was tangible, but it didn't lessen the sting of Arthur's betrayal any. He felt trapped. Merlin had avoided his mother for very good reasons. Firstly, and most obviously, because he was still incredibly angry at her. But also because Merlin still loved his mother and there was a part of him that feared if he was faced with her too soon, before he'd had chance to work through his rage, that he would say or do something to damage their relationship irreparably.

Then Arthur was there, crowding Merlin against the counter, eyes filled with such concern that Merlin almost relented.

"Are you okay?" Arthur raised one hand as if to touch Merlin's face. His expression when Merlin turned away from it swiftly changed from one of concern to that of a kicked puppy."You're mad at me," he said, almost as if thinking aloud.

"Very astute," Merlin snapped, gathering his anger like a cloak around him. "Only I'm not _mad_ , I'm fucking furious."

Arthur flinched visibly at Merlin's anger and pulled back slightly. "Is this about your mother?"

The confusion evident on Arthur's face angered Merlin almost as much as his actions. Because _how_ could Arthur possibly not understand why Merlin would be pissed off about this? He'd made it very clear every time the topic had come up that he just wasn't ready, and for Arthur to ignore that, to go ahead and involve himself in a situation that was none of his damn business...

"You had no right." Merlin kept his tone low, mindful of the teaming cafe behind, but no one who overheard could have mistaken the fury in his voice. "No _fucking_ right."

"I was only trying to help." Arthur looked genuinely confused by Merlin's reaction.

"Help?" Merlin repeated incredulously. "I told you repeatedly that I wasn't ready to speak to her; so how is dragging my mother all the way to London, for a conversation I don't want to have; how is that helping?"

"You don't have to have it." Arthur's courage appeared to have returned, because he reached out and gently grasped one of Merlin's wrists. "That conversation, I mean."

"You told her?" Merlin already knew the answer; it had been written all over his mother's face.

"Yes." Arthur nodded, and just the slightest hint of a smile curved his lips. "So you see, you don't have to worry about it anymore. I took care of it."

Arthur's assumptions left Merlin breathless. He pulled his hand back sharply, wresting it from Arthur's grip. "Did it never occur to you that she would have preferred to hear it from someone who cared, rather than a complete fucking stranger? Or were you too busy trying to _fix_ me to give a toss about that?"

" _Fix you_?" The smile was gone from Arthur's face and Merlin could tell he was struggling to hide his irritation. "Merlin, I'm just trying to help."

"Well, stop it. I didn't ask you to get involved. This is _my_ family, Arthur, not yours. And this whole mess is none of your damn business. This isn't something you can throw money at and make it all better."

Arthur reeled back as if he'd been slapped, and Merlin felt the briefest twinge of guilt. "Look, Merlin, I understand that you're upset. Losing a parent is a terrible thing; I know what it's like to—"

"You don't know anything." Merlin's eyes were hard as flint and they bored into Arthur. "You haven't got a clue what I'm going through. You didn't even know your mother, so how the hell does that compare?"

Before either of them could speak again, Gwen interrupted. "If you two are going to keep doing this, can you at least take it into the office?" She fixed them both with a steely glare in turn.

Merlin nodded and turned on his heel; he wasn't done with this conversation. Not by a long shot.

"There's no need." Arthur's words stopped Merlin in his tracks. He turned round in time to see Arthur remove his apron and toss it down on the counter. "I'm leaving anyway."

Arthur smiled briefly at Gwen, before turning an ice cold stare on Merlin. "Not _everything_ is about you, Merlin." And with that parting shot, he spun on his heel and strode purposefully from the cafe.

"Oh, Merlin." Gwen's tone and gaze were reproving, and rubbed salt in the gaping wound of Merlin's rage. "You really shouldn't have said that about his mother."

Merlin had a feeling that when the anger abated and he was feeling decidedly more calm about the whole situation, he would agree with Gwen. But right now his mother was waiting a short distance away, watching him with a hopeful expression that he was struggling to ignore, and as far as Merlin was concerned, it was all Arthur's fault.

"And he shouldn't have said anything _to_ mine. But that didn't stop him interfering though, did it?"

Gwen stepped a little closer and rested one hand gently on Merlin's arm. "And it doesn't make it right, either." She squeezed her hand gently. "Go after him. Sort it out. I can manage here for a while."

Merlin shook his head stubbornly and removed his hand from her grasp. "I have work to do."

**********

Merlin was exhausted.

Not that he was prepared to admit it. The looks that Gwen was shooting him were bad enough already – if she had any idea of just what he was feeling, the sympathy, whilst well-meant, would be unbearable. And Merlin was having a hard enough time keeping it together as it was.

Things with his mother were tense, to say the least. She'd tried to explain, and Merlin wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, really he did. But she'd lied to him, for twenty-four years, and instead of a lifetime with his father, he'd had only those few short weeks. Merlin just wasn't sure he could forgive her for that yet.

And then there was Arthur.

He hadn't come back the next day, or the day after that, or even the following week. To start with, Merlin carried his phone everywhere with him – in class, at work – much to Gwen's disapproval – and even kept it under his pillow at night. But nothing. No calls, no messages, not even a brief text. It was like he'd decided to erase himself from Merlin's life

Of course, _he_ could have made the first move, Merlin knew that. At least then he might have had some idea of where he stood. But the initial hurt he'd felt at Arthur's perceived betrayal had, instead of fading, twisted itself into anger.

Arthur might have had the best of intentions; Merlin was prepared to allow him that. But he'd had no right to do what he did, and even more so he had no right just to walk away, to turn his back on Merlin like what they'd shared so far was nothing, like it was all Merlin's fault.

"You're going to curdle that milk if you keep glaring at it like that."

Gwen was watching Merlin with the same wary expression that she'd been wearing for days now. Like he was some sort of wild creature she was afraid of startling.

Merlin tipped the milk into the coffee machine and tried to tamp down the feeling of irritation that was building.

"It's been three weeks, Merlin," Gwen tried again.

Merlin bit his tongue. He knew _exactly_ how long it had been. In fact, if pressed, he could probably break it down into hours. "I have customers to serve," he replied stiffly.

Gwen shook her head, stray dark curls bouncing with the movement. "You need to go home," she said firmly. "You look terrible."

"I'm fine." Merlin put the empty jug down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. He turned to face Gwen and gave a weary smile. "Honestly."

Gwen reached out slowly and her fingers gently circled Merlin's wrist. "You're not. I hate seeing you like this. It's like—"

"I'll _be_ fine." Merlin had to interrupt, to cut Gwen off, because while he didn't know exactly what she was going to say next, he knew the name Gwaine would be in there somewhere, and he really didn't want those memories churned up on top of the ones he was already dealing with.

"I think maybe you should try calling him." Gwen's eye contact vanished with this statement; she was staring at some point just over Merlin's left shoulder.

Merlin stepped back until he was propped against the counter, and regarded her thoughtfully – there was no need to ask who _him_ was. "You've changed your tune. Last night you said I needed to forget all about him."

Gwen gave a sheepish smile. "Maybe I was wrong." She shrugged and then added hurriedly, "but if you repeat that I'll deny it." She shifted until she was leant on the counter at Merlin's side and glanced at him sideways. "At least that way you would know for sure."

Merlin snorted softly. "I think he's already made his feelings perfectly clear, don't you?" What he didn't add was that he couldn't call Arthur, because in a drunken fit of self-pity, two nights earlier, he had erased every trace of Arthur from his phone. It was supposed to have been cathartic. It wasn't.

"Morgana, then," Gwen suggested, but the tone of her voice made her scepticism clear.

Merlin just shook his head. "Bad idea." And it was. Morgana had never troubled to hide her disapproval of his...whatever it had been with Arthur – right from the word go – so she was hardly likely to play go-between now. But apart from that, there was the stark reality that Morgana had not set foot inside the coffee shop since the day Arthur had walked out. And in some ways, that hurt so much more.

"D'you want me to ring her?"

Not for the first time Merlin was immensely grateful for Gwen's friendship – she was far more than just his boss, his flatmate; she was this heady mixture of best friend and the sister he'd never had, and honestly, he adored her. "I don't think that's a good idea. Thanks for offering though." He leant sideways and nudged her slightly with his shoulder. "What would I do without you?"

"Fall apart, probably." Gwen gave him a brief grin which died as quickly as it appeared. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Merlin laughed – a foreign sound that he couldn't remember last making. "I know. You really shouldn't worry about me so much, though. You'll get wrinkles." He reached out a finger and lightly touched her forehead, and then shifted back quickly to avoid Gwen's elbow.

"I still think you should go home. You're working too hard – and don't think I don't know why you're volunteering for all these extra shifts – and you're not sleeping properly either."

Merlin opened his mouth to refute that, but Gwen cut across him again.

"Don't bother denying it. The walls in our flat aren't that thick."

"I'll be fine," Merlin repeated, and tried not to think about just _who_ he was trying to convince.

"Eventually, yes. But what about for now?" Gwen took hold of Merlin's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I think maybe you should go and see Gaius."

"He's a doctor, Gwen, not an agony aunt. I'm sure the last thing he wants is to hear about my love life. Or rather, lack thereof."

"I know that." Gwen gave a long-suffering sigh. "But he might be able to give you something to help you sleep. So you're not walking around like an extra from _Night of the Living Dead_."

"You're just full of compliments today, aren't you?"

"He might be able to tell you more about your father, too," Gwen added carefully. "He's known your mum's family since she was little, hasn't he?"

Merlin nodded slowly, and gave himself a quick mental kick for not thinking of that himself sooner. Not the sleeping pills part of it – the last thing he needed right now was to be doped up on medication – but the thought of gleaning even the tiniest bit of information about his father was just too tempting to resist. Despite her apologies, his mother had refused to share any more than the most basic information. She'd said the memories were still too painful and that it would do no one any good to rake over the past. Which was fine for her, Merlin thought sulkily, but it just left him feeling a little bit lost – like a part of him was missing.

**********

Merlin stood outside the imposing oak door for a few moments before knocking. He'd rung Gaius ahead of time, so he was expected, but Merlin was excited and nervous in equal part about what he might learn once he went inside. However, there was the fact that Gwen might actually kill him if she ever found out he got this far without carrying it through, so he screwed up his courage and knocked.

"Come in, come in."

Merlin stepped into the room and couldn't help but smile at the sight of the white-haired man beaming at him from behind a large leather-topped desk. "Hello, Gaius."

"Merlin, my boy!" Gaius waved him forward and in the flurry of movement unseated his glasses which had been perched precariously on the bridge of his nose.

Merlin sank gratefully into the chair opposite and took a moment to look around the room. It had been a while since he'd last been in here – visits to the doctor were not something he'd ever relished, and even though Gaius was an old family friend, Merlin still avoided it at all costs. The room was still as cluttered as it had ever been, with papers and books littering every available surface, the panelled walls dotted with prints and random photographs – it was oddly reminiscent of the office Merlin shared at uni.

"How have you been?" Gaius clasped his hands together on the desk, leant forward, and scrutinised Merlin in a manner that had always made him squirm as a child. It seemed Gaius hadn't lost his touch.

"I've been well," Merlin lied.

The arch of Gaius's eyebrow told him he had not been successful. "The bags under your eyes say otherwise."

Merlin just shrugged. This wasn't like with Gwen. He couldn't get mad or snap or tell Gaius to mind his own business, because, well, because he couldn't. Merlin didn't even have to look in Gaius's eyes to know that the old man already knew this and was prepared to exploit it shamelessly.

"I didn't sleep very well last night," he said finally, which most definitely wasn't a lie. But unlike the previous nights when his dreams were full of Arthur or his father and everything he'd gained and lost in such a short space of time, last night's had been full of this exact moment.

"Or any of the nights before that, by the look of you." Gaius peered intently at him over the top of his glasses.

"I'm fine," Merlin muttered, struggling to keep a sulky tone out of his voice. "I've just got a lot of work on at the moment."

"You're grieving, Merlin. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his chair – he felt like he was rapidly losing control of the situation. "Have you been talking to Gwen?"

Gaius chuckled quietly. "No, don't worry. We haven't been conspiring behind your back." He paused for a moment and his expression softened.

"Then how?" Merlin frowned in confusion.

Gaius remained silent for a moment, almost like he was trying to avoid the question. "Your mother," he said finally. "She came to see me before she left."

Merlin tensed. "So you know what happened?" he asked, and dug his fingernails into the arms of his chair in an effort to remain calm.

"To your father? Yes, she told me. I'm sorry, Merlin."

"Why?" The word came out a lot harsher than intended, but Merlin found that he couldn't, wouldn't take it back.

If Gaius was surprised, he hid it well. "I'm not so old that I can't remember how it feels to lose your father," he replied simply.

"Did you know?" Merlin fixed Gaius with piercing gaze. He was afraid to ask the question, afraid of the damage to their relationship that the answer could cause, but he _had_ to know. "Did you know he was still alive?"

Gaius looked down at his clasped hands for a moment, and took what looked to be a deep breath. "I wasn't privy to his whereabouts or anything like that. But I did know he hadn't died as your mother told you, yes."

That was another sting of betrayal for Merlin to add to the large collection he was already building. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Your mother wanted it that way; I had no right to interfere,"

"You had no right to _lie_."

"It wasn't my place to interfere," Gaius said, his tone calm and firm. "Your mother thought it was best, and I'm not sure that she wasn't right?"

Merlin's eyes widened further than he ever thought possible. "How can you say that?"

"Because I believe it to be the truth." Gaius spoke the words as if it were the simplest thing in the world, and not something that was tearing the fabric of Merlin's reality apart.

"Twenty-four years," Merlin spat – he had finally given up on his battle with self-control. "All that time I walked around thinking my father was dead, being lied to by people I cared about, when all along he was alive, and instead of twenty four years, I got three weeks. How is that for the best? How is that fair?"

"It's not fair, you're right. But would it have done you any good to spend all those years knowing your father was alive, but that he just wasn't interested? That he had more important things to do than be part of his son's life? Your father knew about you, Merlin. That wasn't kept a secret. He _chose_ not to be part of your life; your mother just did what she thought would make it easiest on you."

Merlin slumped down in his chair, his anger abating as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm still angry with her."

"As you have every right to be, my boy. But remember, this has been as hard on her as it has on you. If not harder."

"I don't see how," Merlin muttered, not even attempting to hide the sulky tone.

"No, I don't suppose you do," Gaius agreed. Then he sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. "It's not your fault," he added, seeing Merlin ready to argue. "You can't be expected to understand what you were never told."

"So tell me then. Don't I deserve that at least?"

There was a long silence while Gaius just watched Merlin thoughtfully; Merlin shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"I don't know very much," Gaius said eventually. "At least, not about your father."

Merlin just nodded. He didn't want to speak or do anything else that might cause Gaius to change his mind.

"Your mother was only young when she met your father. Younger than you are now. Ealdor's a small village – the sort of place where everyone made everyone else's business their own. And your grandparents were very conservative."

Merlin stifled a snort at this. He'd had the dubious pleasure of meeting his maternal grandmother on a few occasions – her reaction to his _coming out_ lingered strongly in his memory.

"They didn't approve of you father. No one knew anything about him, where he was from, who his family were, and his appearance..." Gaius chuckled softly at the memory. "Let's just say he wasn't exactly what your grandparents had in mind for their only child.

"And that's why he left?" Merlin sat forward in his seat. "Because they chased him away?"

Gaius shook his head. "No. They tried to stop him seeing your mother. But Hunith, like any teenage girl, thought she knew best, and she rebelled. I caught them several times sneaking around." There was a fond smile on Gaius's face as he spoke, and for a moment he was clearly lost in memories of days past.

"So what happened then?" Merlin asked, with thinly veiled impatience.

"Your mother was very dear to me," Gaius continued finally. "She looked so happy, and even though I didn't necessarily approve, I hadn't the heart to be the one to spoil it for her." The smiled faded from Gaius's face and his eyes became shadowed. He carefully pulled the glasses from his face and rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose.

"Gaius?" Merlin prompted – it felt almost as if his presence had been forgotten.

"What? Oh, sorry about that. It gets a little hard to stay focussed at my age." Gaius smiled crookedly and slipped his glasses back into place. "She wasn't upset when I told her she was expecting. With most teenage girls there are tears, but not your mother. She just looked happy. I think she thought she was finally going to get the family she'd always wanted."

"But she didn't," Merlin pointed out.

"No, Merlin," Gaius replied sadly. "She certainly didn't. Your father disappeared so quickly one would have thought the Hounds of Hell were after him. And your grandparents, well, you know what happened there."

"They kicked her out." Merlin's tone told only too well what he thought of this. His mother might have forgiven them in later years, but Merlin never had.

"Your mother came to live with me after that. She was utterly broken; the people she loved most in the world had abandoned her. If it hadn't been for you, Merlin, for the baby inside her, I don't know that she would have gone on."

Merlin swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. His mother had always seemed so strong, so vital – she'd raised him singlehandedly without complaint. He couldn't imagine her as anything less.

"I moved to London not long before you were born. I couldn't leave your mother behind – your grandparents still refused to acknowledge her, and the gossip in a village like that...well, I'm sure you can imagine how cruel they were."

Merlin nodded slightly. He'd made a couple of visits to Ealdor in his teens and it had been like stepping back in time – especially in terms of tolerance.

"Your mother couldn't even bear to hear Balinor's name mentioned, so when she told me what she'd decided, I didn't fight it. I didn't feel it was my place. And she was right – life was much kinder to a widowed young mother and her baby than it would have been to a silly teenaged girl whose boyfriend had abandoned her."

"She was lucky to have you," Merlin commented, more out of the need to say _something_ than anything else.

Gaius smiled. "So people say. But I consider myself just as blessed. Your mother was like the daughter I never had, and you," Gaius smiled fondly at Merlin. "You were the loveliest little baby. And I couldn't be prouder of the man you've grown into."

Merlin blushed furiously at the same time as his chest swelled. He and Gaius weren't as close now as they had been when Merlin was younger, but his words still meant so much. "Thank you," Merlin mumbled, really at a loss as to what else he _could_ say.

"It's not my place to tell you what to do, Merlin." Gaius sat back in his chair now, expression serious again. "I can't begin to imagine how you're feeling right now. I'm just asking that you give some thought to what I've told you, and to how your mother must be feeling about this as well."

Merlin nodded slowly. He'd never mastered the art of saying _no_ to Gaius, and he could already feel his anger begin to fade.

"Good." Gaius beamed. "Now that's all done with, why don't you tell me what you've been up to lately. Your mother mentioned something about a new boyfriend?"

And just like that Merlin was on edge again. As painful as his grief over his father's death was, in some ways it was easier to handle than the turmoil of emotions that thoughts of Arthur tipped him into. "It's nothing," he muttered, refusing to meet Gaius's gaze. "He's just a friend."

"Really? Because you're mother said he seemed very keen. It's about time you let yourself be happy."

Merlin snapped his attention back to Gaius. Once again the spectre of his failed relationship with Gwaine was hovering, unspoken, in the air. He'd always been able to talk to Gaius before, but Merlin didn't relish unfolding the mess that was his relationship with Arthur – not when _he_ didn't exactly come out of it in a flattering light. He wasn't ready to see Gaius's pride turn to disappointment.

"It isn't that," Merlin said finally, and looked away once more. He found it far more difficult to dissemble when making eye contact. "It wasn't anything special. Arthur's..." Merlin trailed off here, his eyes wide and fixed at a point on Gaius's wall.

"Arthur's what?" Gaius prodded gently.

"He's on your wall." Merlin turned a stunned gaze onto Gaius. "Why do you have a picture of him on your wall?"

Gaius turned his head for a moment and looked in the direction Merlin indicated. "I did wonder," he said finally. "Your mother's description seemed to fit, and with the name too."

Merlin shook his head as if trying to order his thoughts. "This doesn't make sense," he said, almost to himself. "You know Arthur?"

"I'm his godfather."

Merlin gaped. There was no other word for it. "How do you...I mean, what..." Merlin tailed off and scrubbed at his face with one hand. "Explain. Please?"

Gaius took pity on Merlin's obvious confusion. "Arthur's father and I are old friends. He helped me set up my practice in Ealdor. Then, after Ygraine died, he wouldn't trust anyone else with his families' health, and that's how I ended up here." Gaius gestured vaguely at the room around them.

"I had no idea." Merlin's head was a mess of emotions. He and Arthur had been so close all these years, their pictures hanging practically side by side in Gaius's office, and yet he'd never even noticed.

"No reason you should," Gaius replied briskly, then his expression shifted slightly to one of concern. "Have you seen him lately?"

"Uther?" Merlin's brow creased in confusion. "Why would I—"

"Honestly, Merlin." Gaius all but rolled his eyes. "I thought you were meant to be intelligent. I meant Arthur."

"Ah, right, "Merlin said quietly, as if talking to himself."That makes more sense."

"So have you?" Gaius prodded when Merlin said nothing further.

"No." Merlin refused to look up and meet his gaze. "I haven't seen him for weeks."

"Oh."

It was only one syllable, but there was something about the way that Gaius said it that made Merlin's gaze snap back up to him. " _Oh_ what?" he demanded.

Gaius peered at Merlin over the top of his glasses. "Then you haven't heard about Uther."

Merlin's heart stuttered in his chest. "He's not..." He tailed off, unable to put his fears into words. However angry he'd been, still was at Arthur, Merlin wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

"He had a stroke," Gaius replied, and Merlin wanted to shake him because he still hadn't answered Merlin's question. "A serious one."

"Is he dead?" Merlin forced the words to come out, because it seemed Gaius was intent on making him wait as long as possible.

"It was touch and go for a while." The lines of concern on Gaius's face told Merlin just _how_ close it had been. "But no, he's not dead."

Merlin let out a breath that he hadn't even realised he was holding and sagged into his seat. "How is Arthur?" he asked tentatively. "I mean, I know he and his father aren't close, but..." Merlin tailed off, his gaze fixed on his fingers where they splayed on his legs. Just the thought of how Arthur might be hurting was too much.

"I'm worried about him," Gaius admitted. "He's not sleeping or eating properly, and between taking care of his father and trying to manage that damn company; he's running himself into the ground."

"Surely they could afford to have someone nurse Uther properly? I know it wouldn't be cheap, but it's not as if they don't have the money."

"I have suggested it." Gaius sighed heavily. "Repeatedly, in fact. But Uther won't hear of it, and Arthur's so worried about upsetting his father right now, that he won't disagree."

"What about Morgana?" Merlin asked, because he can't imagine Morgana allowing her brother to shoulder this burden alone, however much they might bicker.

"She tries," Gaius said. "But she and Uther have always clashed – their temperaments are so similar – so it's best they don't spend too much time alone in each other's company. No, I'm afraid much of the weight of responsibility rests firmly on Arthur's shoulders. And the problem is Uther raised him with such a sense of duty that Arthur will do it without complaint. Even if it breaks him in the process."

**********

Throughout the long Tube journey home from Gaius’s, his phone weighed heavy in Merlin’s hand. Its silence seemed to mock him for his complete inability to reach out, to make actual human contact with someone he had, still did love.

In between cursing his rashness for erasing all contact details for Arthur, Merlin beat himself up with guilt. Every little slight he had thought or spoken of Arthur in the last few weeks came back to haunt him. While Merlin had been wallowing in self-pity, nursing his petty grudge, Arthur had been running himself into the ground, taking care of a sick father, and managing a company to boot.

He still remembered Arthur’s address, so he could in theory just go round – Gwen said as much herself. But Merlin was painfully aware that things did not end pleasantly between them, and he had no way of knowing whether Arthur would even _want_ to see him again. And despite the aching need to see Arthur that now filled every corner of Merlin’s being, to touch him, to make everything all right, Merlin was still conscious that it might not be reciprocated. Arthur, after all, had had more important things on his mind. And there was a good chance that Merlin turning up unannounced would only add to the stress levels that Gaius had alluded to. And while he wanted nothing more than to make everything better for Arthur, the slightest possibility that he could actually make things worse was what caused Merlin to dismiss the idea out of hand.

In the end, he bit the bullet. He scrolled through his contacts and came to a halt on Morgana’s name. Merlin agonised for a good three hours before he sent the text. He rewrote it numerous times, and never quite managed to strike the balance between casual interest and deep concern. In the end he thought _fuck it_ and pressed his thumb firmly on the send button – before his brain could talk him out of it.

Ironically, that turned out to be the easy part. The rest of it, the waiting, the constant checking for messages every few minutes, was more difficult. Because, until that point, it hadn’t occurred to Merlin that he had anything else to fear. It wasn’t until an hour had passed, then two, and still the inactivity of his phone mocked him, that Merlin had to consider the very real possibility that Morgana was ignoring him.

Maybe it wasn’t just her father’s illness that had kept her away. Because Merlin knew, despite their constant bickering, that Morgana and Arthur loved each other fiercely. Perhaps she had heard her brother’s side of their argument and decided it was all Merlin’s fault. That she wanted nothing more to do with someone who treated her brother so callously.

Gwen though he was being a drama queen, and said so quite plainly as she prised the still-inactive phone from Merlin’s clammy hand, and forcefully propelled him towards his bed. But in the early morning’s hours, when sleep wouldn’t come and daylight was still some distance away, Merlin couldn’t avoid the worst case scenarios that plagued his weary mind.

Sleep eventually took hold just as the sun was coming up. And despite his earlier assertions to Gwen, Merlin slept like the dead until almost noon. He woke with a start, and then winced at the slightly crusty fabric under his cheek – the tendency to drool was not one of his more attractive qualities.

His next action was to grab for his phone, sending the bedside lamp skittering loudly to the floor in the process.

“Shit!” Merlin scrambled out of bed and righted the lamp as quickly as his sleep-dulled responses would allow. Then added another “shit” for good measure when he realised that his phone wasn’t there.

“Bloody Gwen,” he muttered, reaching for the previous day’s shirt and dragging it over his head. “Gwen!” Merlin reached for the door handle. “Where’s my bloody—” He flung the door open only to find Gwen on the other side, a gentle smirk on her face – his phone in one hand, and a steaming mug of coffee in the other.

As much as Merlin loved his coffee, there was really no choice.

“Uh-uh.” Gwen stepped back and shifted one hand till it was firmly hidden behind her back. “First you drink this. _Then_ you get the phone.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Merlin complained, but reached for the mug nonetheless.

Gwen remained silent, the expression on her face implacable, as she watched Merlin drink.

Merlin guzzled the coffee as quickly as he could, just managing to hide a wince as it slid, scalding hot, down his throat. Finally finished, he tipped the mug upside down. “Satisfied?”

Gwen didn’t reply. She just snatched the mug back and replaced it with his phone. “Morgana replied about an hour ago,” she said, before turning towards the kitchen.

“What?” Merlin fumbled with the phone in his eagerness. “Fuck! Why didn’t you tell me?” He padded barefoot across the room after her.

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Gwen turned from the sink and gave him a look that clearly said _don’t push it_.

So Merlin didn’t. He remained silent, and didn’t even treat Gwen to a _look_ of his own. He turned instead to the phone that, once again, weighed heavy in his hands.

“It won’t work by itself.” Gwen pointedly banged the dishes in the sink as she spoke. “You’ll actually have to press the button, you know.”

Merlin ignored her, and just stared, suddenly unsure if he was ready to read whatever it was the message contained.

“Oh, for goodness sake.” Gwen dried her hands hurriedly on the tea towel and stepped forward. “Give it here, you great wuss.”

That provoked a reaction.

Merlin stepped back quickly and made no effort to quell his glare this time. “Get off,” he snapped, and promptly pressed the button before Gwen had a chance to. Then tried to ignore the smug expression on her face that implied this had been her aim along.

The text was brief. It comprised of an address in a part of London Merlin knew by reputation rather than ever having visited, and Morgana’s terse postscript of:

MAYBE YOU CAN TALK SOME SENSE INTO HIM.

And that was it. It didn’t matter how many times Merlin reread it, there was definitely nothing in there to give him any indication of how his presence would be received. Just an address in the fanciest part of London, that Merlin figured could only be Uther Pendragon’s, and that rather unnerving comment.

However, all Merlin could think of was how Arthur had been there for him when his own father died, and that if he couldn’t be there to at least _offer_ Arthur support, then maybe Arthur had been right to stay away.

"I have to go." Merlin blurted out the words at the same time as they occurred to him. He glanced at Gwen almost as if daring her to dispute the fact.

Gwen just gave a soft smile and nodded. But as Merlin grabbed his keys off the side and began cramming his feet into ratty trainers, she spoke up. "Don't you think you should shower first?"

Merlin didn't pause. Instead he just said a hurried, "No time."

"Merlin." Gwen's tone was a little sharper this time and Merlin stilled.

"What?"

"You slept in those clothes last night. Get changed, at least."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest. Every minute he delayed was another minute he spent torturing himself with thoughts of Arthur's reaction.

"You really want to go to Arthur in a t-shirt patterned with last night's curry?"

That clinched it. Because Merlin decidedly did _not_. Arthur was always so smart, well put together, even straight from ninety minutes of football, he still usually managed to look better than Merlin on one of his good days. Plus, Merlin thought, remembering just where he was going, if he showed up in that part of the city in his current state, he was just as likely to get arrested.

Still none of this meant he was grateful to Gwen for pointing it out. He still wasn't happy she hadn't woke him the instant Morgana replied – so the fact she was now delaying him further didn't exactly win her extra brownie points.

*

The entire Tube ride there, Merlin had almost been on auto-pilot – the only real thought crossing his brain had been the overwhelming need to see Arthur. So when faced with the imposing sight of Uther Pendragon's Georgian townhouse, Merlin was struck by the realisation he had no idea what to do now. What on earth did you say to someone who may or may not have been your boyfriend after a month of radio-silence fuelled by your own thoughtlessness and his father's illness? He was fairly sure even Hallmark didn't have a card for that particular situation.

So Merlin did what he had been doing almost the entirety of his acquaintance with Arthur – he took a deep breath, screwed up every last ounce of his courage, and jumped in headfirst.

As he climbed the stone steps to the imposing front door, Merlin felt like his feet were made of lead – they seemed to weigh heavier with each step. He reached for the doorbell with one hand, and noted proudly that the tremors of his uncertainty were virtually unnoticeable.

The familiar, traditional chime pealed out, and as he waited for a reply, Merlin stepped back on the top step and raised his gaze to take in the entire building. He found himself wondering if this had been Arthur's childhood home, and fell into daydreams of a chubby-faced boy tearing through the halls in pursuit of his sister.

That image caused a smile to break on Merlin's face for the first time in days, which disappeared just as quickly at the sound of the door opening.

Based on the address alone, Merlin was half expecting some austere Jeeves clone to open the door. What he definitely hadn't planned on was it being Arthur.

Merlin almost choked on his own tongue in surprise and flailed backwards. Only the achingly familiar grip of Arthur's hand on his forearm kept Merlin from descending the steps in a decidedly ungraceful fashion.

"Arthur." It came out a little breathlessly given his near miss, and Merlin couldn't help but glance down at Arthur's fingers still curled tightly around his sleeve.

Arthur pulled away as if burned; his blank expression gave nothing away. The deep shadows under his eyes, the tight line of his mouth, the dishevelled appearance of his normally perfect hair, however, did. “What are you doing here?”

Even Arthur’s voice sounded weary and Merlin was overwhelmed by the need to just _touch_ him. Arthur was usually so strong, so together, that his demeanour spoke volumes about his state of mind.

It was such a loaded question, and there were a million possible answers Merlin could have given. However, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I heard about your father.”

If possible Arthur’s expression closed down further. “He’s fine.”

“But _you’re_ not.” Merlin reached out, the tremor in his hand now perfectly visible, and took hold of Arthur’s wrist. “Arthur, I...you look terrible.”

Arthur let out a laugh. A harsh, bitter sound, that shattered the silence around them.

Merlin winced. “Sorry, that didn’t...I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” Arthur’s tone implied otherwise. “It’s nothing I don’t hear from Morgana on a daily basis.” He paused for a moment and glanced down at Merlin’s grip on his arm. “How did you find out?”

“Gaius told me; he’s worried about you. And now _I’m_ worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur repeated stiffly and tried to pull his arm free.

Merlin just tightened his grip. “You’re not,” he insisted. “A blind man could see that. Let me help, Arthur. Please?”

“You can’t.” Arthur turned away, refused to meet Merlin’s gaze.

“I can _be_ there,” Merlin persisted. “Like you were for me.”

“And look how well that turned out.” Arthur’s words were bitter.

“It doesn’t matter.” Merlin shook his head. “I overreacted. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Regardless, I apologise for interfering.”

“I don’t care about that,” Merlin replied stubbornly. Arthur just looked so exhausted, so broken, that Merlin ached to hold him. But Arthur still seemed so distant that he didn’t dare risk the rejection by trying. So instead Merlin gently rubbed circles on the inside of Arthur’s wrist with his thumb. “Arthur, please...”

Whether it was his words or the touch itself, Merlin wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, Arthur was suddenly leaning in towards him, arms still by his side as if expecting Merlin to catch him. And he did.

Needing no further encouragement Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and held on tight. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, lips pressed close to Arthur’s ear. Merlin wasn’t even sure what he was apologising for by this point, but he repeated it over and over again as he felt the tension ease from Arthur’s body.

Finally Arthur’s hands came to rest on Merlin’s waist, his grip tight to the point of almost being painful, but Merlin had no intention of complaining. Instead he turned his face slightly and pressed the gentlest of kisses to Arthur’s temple.

The sharp intake of breath that followed caused Merlin to still for a moment, afraid he’d gone too far, that Arthur would turn him away now. But seconds later Arthur seemed to melt further into the embrace and Merlin felt brave. He pulled his head back slightly and pressed another kiss to Arthur’s cheek, then another to his lips, before finally resting their foreheads together. He couldn’t have wiped the smile of his face if he’d tried.

“Maybe we could go inside?” Merlin suggested carefully. “We’re putting on quite a show for your neighbours.”

Arthur’s laugh was shaky but genuine and Merlin felt a brief moment of triumph.

As Arthur led the way inside, Merlin’s hand now firmly clasped in his, they were greeted by the sight of Morgana, paused halfway down the stairs, eyeing them with obvious delight.

“Not a word,” Arthur warned.

Morgana simply glanced down to their joined hands and then actually _beamed_. “Merlin, thank god,” she breathed. “What took you so long?”

“Morgana.” Arthur’s sharp tone cut across whatever reply Merlin was going to make. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Morgana glared back at her brother and for a moment Merlin though he was about to be embroiled in another Pendragon sibling squabble. But finally she relented. “Yes.” She grinned. “I do. I believe I need to call Gwen right this instant.” With that, she turned tail and ascended the stairs as quickly as her heels would allow.

Arthur groaned. “She’s going to be insufferable now.”

“Isn’t she always?” Merlin teased. “At least, where you’re concerned. And trust me when I say Gwen’s no better.”

“Women,” Arthur commented, a wry smile on his face.

“I know, right?” Something in Merlin’s chest loosened at Arthur’s expression and he squeezed his hand gently. “It’s enough to put you off for life, isn’t it?”

“Idiot.” The obvious affection in Arthur’s tone tempered the insult, and he tugged on Merlin’s hand. “Come on.”

Merlin followed Arthur willingly down the polished hallway, trying his best not to gape at the obvious display of wealth. This was easier said than done when they entered the living room – although, Merlin supposed, in a house like this it was probably called something far fancier, like drawing room.

But before Merlin had much opportunity to gape at the doubtlessly expensive furnishings, Arthur pulled him down onto the nearest settee and pulled him close. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he murmured, trailing his nose along the line of Merlin’s jaw.

Merlin sighed contentedly. “Oh, I think I’ve got a fair idea. Just ask Gwen.”

“I really am sorry, you know.” Arthur pressed a tentative kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin laid one finger over Arthur’s lips. “It’s forgotten,” he said quietly. “We both messed up. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Arthur nodded slowly, but instead of replying, he flicked out his tongue and licked the tip of Merlin’s finger.

Merlin tried his hardest to give Arthur a stern glare, though he was fairly sure he failed spectacularly. “Stop trying to distract me. We need to talk.”

“But this is so much more fun.” Arthur opened his mouth, clearly now intent on sucking Merlin’s finger.

“Arthur.” Merlin’s tone really couldn’t be described as anything other than affectionate. “I’m serious.”

“So is this,” groaned Arthur as he slumped back in his seat muttering, and Merlin could have sworn he heard something that sounded distinctly like _cock blocker_.

Merlin gave himself a mental shake and tried to erase a multitude of distracting mental images from his brain. One look at Arthur’s tired face made that easy to do. “When was the last time you slept properly?” Merlin brushed his thumbs over the bruises under Arthur’s eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur insisted, and Merlin wondered just who he was trying to convince.

“Please stop saying that, because it’s blatantly not true.” Merlin shifted in his seat until he was practically straddling Arthur's lap. He placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders and squeezed.

"Ow!" Arthur tried to twist away from Merlin's grip. "That hurt."

"It's not surprising," Merlin replied, his expression just a little serious. "You've got more knots than an oak tree."

"You could give me a massage." The corners of Arthur's mouth quirked slightly.

"I could," Merlin agreed. "But that's not going to help unless you start taking things a bit easier. You're only one man, Arthur. You can't do everything."

"It's not that easy." Arthur raised one hand and rubbed wearily at his face. "I have responsibilities; people depending on me."

"You won't be any use to those _people_ when you collapse from exhaustion. When was the last time you slept?" Merlin reached out and brushed the hair back from Arthur's face. "And I mean properly. Not just a quick nap on the sofa in your office."

"I don't have time. If I'm not _at_ the office, then I have people calling or emailing me while I'm here; I spent most of this morning on a video conference with a client in Hong Kong. And if I'm not working, then there's father to take care of. He's still not fully mobile and I can't leave him."

Merlin kissed Arthur gently on the lips. However irritated Merlin was with Arthur's stubbornness, Merlin couldn't help be reminded just what a _good_ man he truly was. "You need help, though. A nurse or carer; someone to ease the strain."

"I can manage," Arthur relied sharply.

"Arthur, I'm not trying to say—"

"I can take care of my own father."

Merlin smiled sadly. "But who's going to take care of _you_ while you're doing that."

"Naturally, I assumed you would." Arthur placed his hands on Merlin's waist and stroked his fingertips over the smooth flesh revealed where Merlin's t-shirt had ridden up. "I know for a fact that Morgana owns a naughty nurse costume that you would look amazing in."

"Arthur." Merlin tried his hardest to chastise, but failed miserably as chuckles escaped. "I'm trying to be serious."

"Oh, so am I." Arthur's grin could now be described as lascivious at best. "Course, we'd probably have to shave your legs."

Merlin laughed. He couldn't help himself. He knew what Arthur was trying to do, to distract him from the subject at hand, but damn if he wasn't doing a bloody good job of it.

"You're incorrigible," he said, the affection clear in his tone. "And apparently quite a pervert, too."

Arthur joined him in laughter then. "You don't know the half of it," he teased, then slid his hands down to Merlin's arse and pulled him closer. "But I'm only too happy to show you."

Before Merlin had chance to respond, or react to the very definite coil of heat Arthur's actions caused, there was a quiet but very definitely pointed cough. Merlin stilled instantly and didn't dare look round. As far as he knew there were only two other people in the house, and there was no way Morgana's interruption would have been that discreet.

"Father!" The alarm was evident on Arthur's face, and Merlin was fairly sure he would have leapt to his feet were it not for the rather obvious erection currently pressing into Merlin's leg. "Are you all right? If you wanted something you should have called."

"I'm fine." Uther replied. "Admittedly I now know more about both my children's private lives than I ever needed, but it's nothing a stiff drink won't blot from my memory."

Merlin wasn't sure if it was the obvious amusement in Uther's voice or the look of abject horror on Arthur's face, but something caused a snort of laughter to escape before he could stop it.

"Don't look so horrified, Son. You should take a leaf out of your friend's book; loosen up a little."

Merlin could hardly continue to pretend invisibility now. He turned his head slightly towards the door and braced himself. He'd never _met_ Uther Pendragon before, but he'd heard enough of him, from Arthur and various other sources to make him wary.

The ravages of ill-health were still clearly visible, and Merlin could understand why Arthur was so concerned. Uther stooped in a way the pictures Merlin had seen never showed. He had a walking stick clenched firmly in his right hand, and as he moved towards them, Merlin could see he dragged his right leg slightly as he walked. It was a painfully slow process, and Merlin felt the tension in Arthur's body as he restrained the impulse to rush to his father's aid.

"Merlin, is it?" Uther enquired, and Merlin noticed then that his speech was slightly slurred. The effort Uther was making to avoid this was obvious, but a slight impediment remained nonetheless.

"Yes, sir." Merlin nodded and felt faintly ridiculous for using the honorific, but he had no idea what else to call him. Uther Pendragon didn't exactly strike him as the sort of man you immediately leapt to a first name basis with.

"Well then, Merlin, I'd like you to do me a favour, if you would?"

Merlin nodded slowly. He didn't exactly feel he could refuse, but his heart stuttered at the possibilities.

"Father, I don't think—"

Uther rapped his stick on the floor sharply and brought Arthur's words to a halt. "Be quiet," he said – it was firm, but not unkind, and Merlin heaved a sigh of relief he wasn't about to witness his first Pendragon family domestic. "I want you to get my son out of this house; get some fresh air. He spends entirely too much time cooped up in here."

Merlin was so busy waiting for the expected _leave my son alone_ that he didn't actually catch what was said. "I'm sorry, what?"

Uther appeared not to hear. "The weather's lovely out, so I'm told, and there's a beautiful park across the street."

"I'm not a dog that needs to be walked." Arthur had the kind of pout on his face that usually made Merlin want to kiss him silly

"If it were that simple, Arthur, I'd put a lead on you and drag you there myself."

"I can't just wander off when I please. The business—"

"The business won't collapse if you take a couple of hours off. And nor will I."

"Father—"

"I'm serious, Arthur. I appreciate everything you've done for me, more than you'll ever know. But I don't want my health tended at the expense of your own. And as for the business, delegate; that's what we pay all those managers exorbitant salaries for, isn't it?" Uther paused for a moment and glanced down at his lame leg. "Unless you have a particular desire to end up like this?"

Arthur opened his mouth and for a moment it appeared he was about to protest. But all he said was “No,” so softly, that Merlin barely heard it. Uther, it seemed, had no such hearing difficulties.

“Good. That’s decided then.” He glanced at the ornate clock above the mantle. “I don’t want to see you back here before it's dark." Uther inclined his head slightly at Merlin and then turned away slowly.

Merlin watched him go, filled with admiration for the obvious determination in his movements. Then, as the door closed quietly behind him, Merlin turned his attention back to Arthur. He rested their foreheads together once again.

"You know, I think I quite like him," he said, a broad grin on his face.

"You would," Arthur muttered, and then he slid his hands back to their former position on Merlin's arse. "Now, where were we?"

**********


End file.
